Keep The Home Fires Burning
by DeadlyFandoms
Summary: The conscription act of 1916 stated that all men between the ages of 18 and 40 were liable to be called to serve in the British army...now Bert is one of the latest victims. In the middle of a raging war, Mary and Bert must come to terms with the news and try to stay strong, even with Mary home in London and Bert away in the trenches. (World War One) [COMPLETE]
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Still here, still writing Mary Poppins fanfictions! XD**

 **So, here is the *totally original* idea of Bert being sent off to fight in the first world war. If you want to have some fun, take a shot every time I reference poetry, propaganda or music from the First World War! XD**

 **Anyway, as always, I REALLY hope you enjoy this! x**

 **Keep the home fires burning  
Chapter One**

 **25** **th** **May, 1916:**

 _Mary_

 _I hoped that I would never have to write this letter to you, not just for my sake, but for yours too. But I guess there are some things in this world that we just can't run from – at least not forever. Some things will always catch up with us and now something has caught up with me._

 _You've probably guessed it by now Mary. Nobody can avoid conscription anymore, not even me, as I'm writing this I have been officially recruited as a soldier in the British army. I will leave for France on the 30_ _th_ _._

 _I'm truly sorry Mary, truly, truly sorry. I know how desperately you wanted me to stay and if I could've avoided it forever I would've; I could've lived with the occasional glare or white feather being thrown my way because I knew that you were happy. But as you know Mary, I can't run from this anymore._

 _Mary, you're my dearest friend and the thought of returning to you will keep me fighting, but if something should happen to me, do not weep or mourn, carry on and be happy. You're the only light left in this darkened world Mary; don't let your spark die. I know I seem awfully downhearted, but this is something I can't be happy about…not this time._

 _Mary, I don't think I ever truly expressed just how much you mean to me – something that I regret now more than ever, so if it's my last chance to say it, Mary Poppins, I love you, I have loved you for so long and I'm going to keep on loving you for as long as I live. Maybe when this lousy war is over I'll have the courage to tell you face to face._

 _I wish it could all be different._

 _Always,_

 _Bert._

 **30th** **May, 1916:  
**

Mary could barely see where she was going as tears began to well in her eyes, but she pressed on with fearful and determined steps – the sounds of her boots were drowned out by the endless array of heartbreaking conversations occurring around her. The docks were overcrowded with departing families and loved ones who refused to let go – that's exactly why Mary was here, she needed to find Bert; when she initially read his letter she had had no idea how to respond, at first she simply cried and then came silence, as if his news hadn't quite sunk in. Now there was fear, fear that she had left it too late and that she would not see him before her left…which could potentially mean that she would never see him again.

The crowds were suffocating, but she kept fighting he way through just hoping, begging that she would at least catch a glimpse of Bert. As each moment passed her hopes seemed to be slipping further form her grasp, but she refused to give up, not until everyone around her had vanished, not until that dock was bare…only then would she abandon her search. She continued to fight her way through the crowd until finally her eyes fell upon a sight that made everything else invisible, Bert was stood alone, a bag over his shoulder and a sombre expression painted on his face. He didn't notice her – in fact, he was staring down at his boots.

"Bert!" she called out desperately.

His eyes lit up as he saw her and Mary practically flung herself into his arms and buried her face into the crook of his neck. He held her tightly – making it clear that he would hold her forever if he could. In fact, he held her for what seemed like an eternity, just so that he could savoured the feeling of having her in his arms; eventually she moved her head so that she could look up at him, but his arms remained firmly around her waist, whilst Mary rested her hands timidly on his chest.

"Oh, Mary, aren't you a sight for sore eyes" he said softly.

"I got your letter -" she told him as tears began to shamelessly spill down her cheeks, "—and I just couldn't bear to let you leave without saying goodbye"

"I'm so sorry, Mary" Bert whispered – tears staining his own cheeks.

"There's no reason why you should apologise, you didn't exactly have a choice in the matter"

"That doesn't stop me from feelin' sorry"

Every single word they uttered was a struggle; although they had treasured their friendship for many years, neither of them truly realised just how much they cared for each other until now - when the possibility of them never seeing each other again was painfully real. Mary could feel her heart crumbling like weakened rock, Bert was such a central part of her world – she didn't know what she'd do without him – it was like she was losing a piece of herself. She found herself clinging slightly to his shirt.

"I'm going to miss you so much" she whimpered.

"I'll be back before you know it" he said with force positivity.

"Two years ago they said it would all be over by Christmas…but we're still fighting, Bert"

"And I'm gonna keep fightin' too, because I know that you'll be 'ere when all of this is over"

They seemed to see into each other's souls that day, they knew the fears that they both held – their oh, so powerful fears – but they also knew that they were the only supports for such fears. It kept them bound together. There is no stronger bond in the universe than love and they seemed to recognise that – even if it was a silent recognition.

They found themselves clinging to each other for as long as they could, whilst trying – and failing – to stop tears from slipping down their cheeks, but they simply couldn't hide their devastation, not now, not even in the middle of a war. They had said goodbye to each other before, but this was on an entirely different scale; for this time, they could lose each other forever. They were heading down a path of endless possibilities and whilst many of those possibilities held happiness for them, Mary couldn't stop herself from thinking about the arsenal of tragedies that they could run into. It made her tremble.

"Listen to me…" Bert said softly, "…when I'm gone, I don't want you stayin' up all night worryin' about me… an' I don't want you thinkin' about all the bad stuff, I want you to do what you do best: focus on the good in the world, Mary, focus on all the good thing that could 'appen…" he paused for a moment and with a bittersweet smile he finally sang, "…a spoonful of sugar goes a long, long way"

"You're far too good for this world, Bert…and you're far too good to deserve being sent into a war" she tried to smile – but her eyes revealed her heartbreak.

"There's nothin' special about me" he says almost grimly.

"Herbert Alfred, I never want to hear you say such nonsense ever again"

She looked up into Bert's eyes and although his are also convey his melancholy, miraculously, there is still a glimmer of happiness in there; he really was amazing, a man who even when staring into the face of a war, could remain positive. She knew no one else like him.

They crowd began to shuffle around them and they knew that they had mere minutes left together. Bert seemed to tighten his hold of her.

"I'll write to you" she said desperately.

"An' I'll write back"

"Take care of yourself, Bert" she whimpered.

She took another moment to gaze up at him before she leant forward and placed a soft kiss on his lips; it may have only been brief, but it was like electric. Bert rested his forehead against hers once their lips broke apart.

"I promise you I'll come home safe" he whispered.

"That's a piecrust promise"

"No it's not, it's a sweep's promise, a soldier's promise…a Bert Alfred promise"

This was it, their last few seconds together…but neither of them could bring themselves to utter the word 'goodbye'.

"See you soon, Mary Poppins" were Bert's eventual words – but they caught in his throat and brought on a few more fresh tears.

Mary tried to respond, but the words didn't leave her lips. Bert reluctantly let his arms fall from her waist and flashed her a saddened smile before eventually walking away. That was it. Bert Alfred – _her_ Bert – had gone to war.

What happened after that became nothing more than a torturous blur in Mary's memory, but soon the only people left on at the docks were those the men had left behind. There was a ghostly silence that was overflowing with palpable heartbreak; for those that stood there on that day never knew if they would see their loved ones again. Wives could be left without their husbands, children without their fathers or mothers without their sons…and if Bert didn't return, Mary would be left without a piece of her own heart.

But there was one moment that Mary could recall, and that was when she found herself singing through her tears; her voice was as angelic as ever, but carried a broken tone as it echoed through the docks.

" _They were summoned from the hillside,  
They were called in from the glen,  
And the country found the ready  
At the stirring call for men.  
Let no tears add to their hardships  
As the soldiers pass along,  
And although your heart is breaking,  
Make it sing this cheery song…"_

Faces gaze upon Mary as she sang the tune, and through their tears mothers and wives began to smile. When it came time for the chorus, Mary was not alone in her singing.

" _Keep the home fires burning,  
While your hearts are yearning.  
Though your lads are far away  
They dream of home.  
There's a silver lining  
Through the dark clouds shining.  
Turn the dark clouds inside out  
Till the boys come home."_

 ***!***

 **So, there you go, that was chapter one!  
**

 **These are only going to be very short chapters and there probably want be more than three or four.**

 **Chapter two will be up soon!**

 **I really hope you enjoyed this...I would love to know what you thought! xxx**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I really hope you enjoyed the first chapter, this one is a bit longer and is primary made up of the letters sent between Bert and Mary - but not all of it.**

 **I'm really enjoying writing this one and I hope you enjoy reading it!**

 **I'd love to hear your thoughts! x**

 **Keep The Home Fires Burning  
Chapter Two**

 **21** **st** **June, 1916:**

Bert sat alone in his dug out. Night had fallen quickly in France – despite the season – almost as if the world was giving up on what small shreds of happiness it had left. But Bert managed to still wear a smile as he gently scribbled away with his pencil – almost loving the way it felt to write Mary's name. Little had happened since the few weeks he left London, but he made sure to keep writing to her – even if all he had to say was a simple hello.

A chill ran up his spine as he heard the explosion of a nearby shell – he still hadn't gotten used to that, although he had been assured that after some time it would all become white noise. He feared that somewhat, he didn't _want_ the sounds of war to become natural for him.

Still, he kept writing his letter…

 _Mary,_

 _I hope this letter finds you well. I wanted to write to you again, even though there is no news to tell, but at least I know that by receiving my letters you will not worry about me. Or, at least you'll worry less._

 _I know that I've only been away a few weeks, but things are so lonely over here, even though I'm surrounded by people, things just aren't the same without you. I know that we've been apart before, but I guess it's just different this time, maybe it's because I know I can't pop back over to London and see you. War really does change the little things too._

 _Truth is, I miss you, Mary, you're my dearest friend…but I know I've told you that before._

 _I hope things are going well with the Walsh family. It sounds like the two little boys are a right handful, I wish I could be there so we could take them on a bit of a 'Jolly Holiday' – but I just know you can make them happy._

 _Take care of yourself, Mary and make sure you keep smiling._

 _Yours always,  
Bert._

 **30** **th** **June, 1916:**

 _Dear Bert,_

 _I thank you for your kind consideration and, in truth, your letters are always a huge relief to me – they let me know that you are still alive. But even though hearing from you is such a comfort, I'm afraid that it will not prevent me from worrying._

 _I do hope you're doing well over there – it must be absolutely awful. Not that they ever tell us that, of course, all we have back in London in sickeningly positive propaganda to try and keep the spirits of the home front up. I can understand why it's done – in fact, I quite agree with the method – but it can be quite hard to remain so positive when someone you care about is sat in a trench somewhere on the other side of the English channel…even for me._

 _James and Samuel Walsh are indeed quite a handful, but it is so endearing to see that the war cannot kill the happiness of their childhood. Although, I can tell that they miss their father very much – but they are so proud of him; they do so love to brag about how their father is a 'big, brave soldier in the army' – I hope he returns as such. I know that you'd love them, much like you they're kind-hearted and are always looking out for fun. I do feel happy when I'm around them, but they do make me miss you so._

 _Stay safe, Bert and please write to me soon._

 _Mary._

 **10** **th** **July, 1916:**

 _Mary,_

 _I'm glad that these letters can provide you with some comfort, but please try not to worry, I promised you that I would return home safely and a Bert Alfred promise has never been broken before. The battle of the Somme commenced a few days ago, things have been alright for the British side so far._

 _You know me, Mary, I've never been one to complain. Perhaps a trench isn't the nicest place to spend the summer, but I'm still breathing and so there's really not a lot that I can complain about. Besides, it's not in my nature – as you have so often told me._

 _Although the nights may be long, there is a bit of warmth left over here in France and when things are quieter we find ways to pass the time, if you look at it from a positive point of view then there are certain moments when this war isn't all bad; some evenings are quiet and we get a chance to chat about our loved ones and lives back home. It gives us hope and hope is valuable to us over here. I told the men all about you one night, they said that you're too perfect to be true…I'm almost inclined to believe them._

 _I know things must be hard for you back in London, but do try and keep smiling. I know that you're a happy person at heart, Mary – so the thought of you doing anything but smiling is practically torturous._

 _Those Walsh boys do sound like a lot of fun and I'm glad that they make you happy. I'm also glad that they keep you on your toes, sometimes a distraction can be useful in times like this. And I, of course, have to thank you for your very kind words – they're quite the compliment when they've come from Miss Mary Poppins herself._

 _Also, thank you for the book you sent me – it's nice to have a new way to pass the time other than pitch-black card games or listening to the men recite the poetry they've written for their wives…not that I'm complaining, of course!_

 _Make sure you keep dazzling the world with your smile, Mary._

 _Always,  
Bert._

 **0ooooooooooooooo0**

 **28** **th** **August, 1916**

 _Dearest Bert,_

 _I hear that the battle of the Somme still hasn't ended, is that so? If it is, then please be careful, I know you have a duty to serve your king and country, but it really does frighten me._

 _I do hope you got the birthday package I sent you, I know it wasn't much, but I do hope that it'll make life in the trenches that little bit easier. It was rather horrid to not have you there on the day, but know that I was thinking of you. I hope things are as pleasant as they could possibly be over there. I miss you terribly._

 _I moved on from the Walsh family a few days ago, although their father is still in the trenches, their mother has gotten back on her feet – they are a loving family once again and so my work is done. I admit that I shall miss the them, but I can take comfort in knowing that James and Samuel still have a loving home._

 _Coincidentally, as I made my way through London on that same day, I found myself face to face with the one and only Jane Banks! Bert, she has grown so much – and Michael too – you'd hardly recognise either of them! They're sixteen and fifteen now, can you believe that? It makes me feel rather old. Although I wouldn't normally do so, I did join the Banks family for tea at their house a few days later, only to discover that there have been new additions since then: John and Barbara Banks – twins! Were you aware of this? Oh, Bert, they're absolutely adorable!_

 _Mr Banks is still here in London, he's been lucky enough to avoid conscription – even with the widened regulations. I only wish that you could've been as lucky, Bert._

 _They asked me to stay on as their nanny, and as much as I would've loved to, I politely declined the offer; as I told them, there are families that need me more than theirs. However, I made a promise to visit them as often as I could. Jane and Michael also send their love to you, they miss you very much and hope that you return home safely when all of this is finally over._

 _My next family is the Williams family, quite small, only one child and her grandfather. The girl, Lily, well, her mother died in childbirth and her father – like so many others – fell victim to the conscription act not long after you did. She's very quiet and I can see she's hurting. She shuts herself off from the rest of the world which has made it very difficult for her grandfather to care for her. I hope that I can make a difference here._

 _I have nothing more to say, Bert, other than I miss you terribly. Please write back soon._

 _Always,  
Mary._

 **7** **th** **September, 1916:**

Bert smiled as he read the words written in Mary's artistic handwriting, the curve of each letter felt so personal – as if each one was a painting and drawn with the upmost care. His lips managed to curl into a slight smile as he read about Jane and Michael Banks; it had been so long since he'd seen either of them. As they got older, they stopped coming to the park, and although Bert understood that, he couldn't help but miss them whenever his work took him there. He had thought about visiting many times, but he never wanted to impose. They had obviously remained a loving family since Mary left them all those years ago and he didn't want to get in the way of that.

He dug through his small bag of belongings to find a pencil and paper and began to write his response…

 _Dearest Mary,_

 _It's been three months since the battle of the Somme began and it shows no sign of ending, I guess I'm lucky since I'm not stuck right in the thick of it all. But please do not worry about me, Mary, understand?_

 _I cannot thank you enough for the birthday package, it really did lift my spirits; it was as if a small piece of you was here with me. It really kept me going that night. I wish I could've spent the day with you, but I'll be home soon, just you wait and see!_

 _I'm glad to hear that everything worked out with the Walsh family…you really are amazing, you know?_

 _As for the Banks family, I had no idea that Mr and Mrs Banks had had more children! I suppose I saw Jane and Michael less and less as they got older and so I never had the chance to find out. Or maybe I did see them, but just didn't recognise them if they're as big as you say they are! I'm glad to hear that Mr Banks is still at home…a man needs to be with his family in a time like this, especially if he's got two new mouths to feed._

 _Please send my love back to Jane and Michael, and the rest of the Banks family for that matter – and tell them I said thank you._

 _Look after that little girl, Mary, she really needs you and her grandfather in a time like this. And whatever you do, do not doubt your abilities for one moment, you're an amazing woman, Mary and I know that you'll be able to bring this new family back together. You'll do something really magical for them, I'm sure of it._

 _There's a little sketch on the back of this letter – it's nothing as dreary as the trenches…just a dream I had that I wanted to share with you._

 _Keep smiling, Mary – for me._

 _Yours always,  
Bert._

 **19** **th** **September, 1916:**

As soon as Mary finished reading the letter she flipped the piece of paper over with playful intrigue; Bert had indeed sketched a small picture on the back. It wasn't much and had clearly been a struggle to draw – perhaps from a blunt pencil – but it simply took her breath away. The sketch was of a broad oak tree that stood proudly in an open meadow, the grass was glittered with blooming flowers and the sun caressed the curve of each branch with a gentle and loving hand. He had even draw a small deer grazing peacefully. It was truly beautiful, the very epitome of perfection and yet the very opposite to what Bert had to endure every single day. It was bittersweet. But Mary managed to take a shred of happiness form the fact that even though Bert was fighting in a war, his dreams were still filled with beauty.

She promptly picked up some paper and began to write her response,

 _Dear Bert,_

 _Your drawing is simply wonderful, it has such beauty – you are truly talented. It makes me so happy to know that you can still convey such beauty even in times as dark as these. I'm going to keep it safe, then one day we may be able to explore it in full?_

 _The Banks family are still sending all their love to you, Jane and Michael see you very much as a father figure and they so desperately want to see you return safely – as do I._

 _Have you thought about putting in for a leave of absence? I know it's rare to be granted such a privilege, but it's worth a try, don't you think? At least then I'd be able to see you and know that you are still safe and away from France for a while._

 _I'll make sure to keep smiling for you, Bert. And do take care of yourself._

 _Always,  
Mary_

 **0ooooooooooooooo0**

 **20** **th** **October, 1916**

 _My dearest Mary,_

 _As always, I hope you are well. I don't have much to report, but I make sure to keep writing so that you don't start to worry._

 _I have been trying every day to get granted some leave, but they're just not letting me go, hardly anyone around here is leaving…I'm sorry._

 _It's getting a colder over here now, although I imagine it's still warmer over here than in London. I expected my dug-out to be a bit warmer than this…still, it could be worse, they could have me stationed up in the north pole – every cloud has a silver lining!_

 _You haven't said much about that little girl you were looking after, has she gotten better yet? You know, there's a fella around here who's got a daughter back at home – I think her name was Elizabeth – says he misses her more and more each day, but I can tell that his daughter is what keeps him going, he's still got some fight left in him and I know it's because of his daughter._

 _In fact, I think every single soldier here is fighting for someone special – it's all we really have to keep us going. I'm fighting for you, Mary._

 _Keep the home fires burning and take care you yourself._

 _Yours always,  
Bert._

 **30** **th** **October, 1916:**

 _Bert,_

 _Please don't be upset, we knew that it was an unlikely outcome. Just make sure you look after yourself! Stay warm, stay dry and try to stay well rested._

 _How you can stay so positive in times like this is beyond me, you really are too perfect for this world, Bert._

 _Lily has gotten a lot better, but my work is not done yet – I except this will be one of my longer assignments. She is getting along much better with her grandfather, but she wants her father back and that is what's really hurting her; unfortunately, that's something that even I cannot fix. It makes me feel a little helpless at times. Things would be better if you were here._

 _I really don't know if I'm even worth fighting for, but if it keeps you going then please fight on. I don't want to lose you, Bert. Keep dreaming of home and one day you will find it._

 _Yours always,  
Mary._

 **0ooooooooooooo0**

 **18** **th** **November, 1916**

Mary read the letter under the gentle glow of a single candle – unaware that it had been written less than an hour after an onslaught of shells and 'whizzbangs' – the bombardment had rocked the dug out within an inch of its life, but there was a sigh of relief once it was all over. Miraculously, no one was injured and the first thing Bert did was compose a letter to Mary…

 _My darling Mary,_

 _The battle of the Somme has finally ended and for just a short moment, everything seemed hopeful, perhaps even peaceful. I have no doubt that I shall be back home in London before you know it!_

 _I know that I can be quite vague in my descriptions, but please understand that I don't want to worry you, all you need to know is that I'm still breathing. I know you may feel patronised, but please know that I hold back on what I write simply because I care about you. Besides, I'd much rather have you tell me about your world than have to explain mine._

 _I hope you're well, have you seen Jane and Michael recently? What about the new family you started working for? Please tell me all that you can…I'm still dreaming of home._

 _I'm still fighting for you, Mary. Maybe I'll be home by Christmas?_

 _Look after yourself._

 _Yours always,  
Bert._

 **26** **th** **November, 1916**

 _Bert,_

 _I'm so glad to hear that you can find a few moments of peace over there; if anyone deserves it, it's you._

 _I understand why you might hold back on any potential horrors and although it does frustrate me a little it is quite an endearing action on your part – so for that, I must thank you. Perhaps it is for the best?_

 _I'm actually between families at the moment, so I promised Mrs Banks that I would help her out until I have to leave again. It is unfortunate that I should have to tell you this, but, Mr Banks has been called away to serve. He will be leaving for France before the month is over. I do hope he stays safe. As you can imagine, they were all devastated when they heard the news, but Jane and Michael have both put on a brave face – I think it's for their mother's sake. I think I might stay on as their nanny, I suspect they might be in greater need than I had anticipated._

 _I miss you terribly, Bert. Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night and wish that you were there to hold me – sorry if that sounded too forward, but what is the point in hiding the way I feel?_

 _Stay safe, Bert and please come home to me._

 _Yours always,  
Mary._

 **25** **th** **December, 1916:**

Bert sat with several other soldiers next to an array of dim gas lamps, each man sat in silence as they wrote letters or cried over pictures of their loved ones. The moon was full over the trench that night and a timid sprinkle of snow graced the darkened grass around the them. Bert shivered in the crisp air and wished for nothing more than to be back home in London and to have Mary by his side. He felt a couple of tears well in his eyes, but blinked them away as best as he could…

 _My dearest Mary,_

 _I regret nothing more than the fact that I have left you alone on Christmas. I imagine that London is not as bustling as it once was, but please do me the favour of smiling today – even if it is only once and for just a second._

 _Thank you for the Christmas package that you sent, it means more to me than you will ever know. Please know that if I could send something back other than my drawings then I would._

 _Please make sure you surround yourself with others today – I cannot bear the thought of you being alone. Know that I am thinking of you with each passing moment. I wish I could be by your side, to hold you and to make you feel safe and warm._

 _I miss you more and more each day, but I will come home to you soon – I'm going to make sure of it._

 _Merry Christmas, Mary. I love you._

 _Yours forever,  
Bert._

 ***!***

 **A/N: So, as always, I really hope you enjoyed that and a let me know what you thought! :) x**


	3. Chapter 3

**Here's the latest chapter!**

 **I really love writing this story, everything just flows from my mind so easily - it's an absolute pleasure to write!**

 **I really hope you enjoy it!**

 **Keep The Home Fires Burning  
Chapter Three**

 **1st January, 1917:**

 _Mary,_

 _As I'm writing this it is 1916 no more, happy new year, darling, this is going to be a great year for us – I can feel it!_

 _Things have been quiet since Christmas, sometimes it gives us hope that this lousy war might actually be over soon. I hope that's true._

 _I made friends with a young man named Wilfred – turns out he's quite a poet! He rarely lets people read his work, but the lad has got real talent. Rather embarrassingly, he's convinced me to have a go at writing my own…as you know, I've always been more of an artist than a poet, but I figured it couldn't do any harm – so I wrote a poem for you. You'll find it on the extra piece of paper I've sent with this letter. If it's as terrible as I think it is, blame him – not me. So, just in case you want you want to write him a letter of displeasure, his name is Wilfred…_

Bert looked up from his letter for just a moment.

"'ey, Wilfred, what's yer last name again? I wanna make sure you get the blame if this poem of mine doesn't go down well"

Wilfred laughed before replying, "Owen"

 _…his name is Wilfred Owen._

 _I hope things are still going well with the Banks family, how are they holding up? I know it can't be easy for you, but I know that you can help carry them through these difficult times. But remember that sometimes we all need to be selfish – even you._

 _Take care of yourself, Mary – and keep the home fires burning._

 _I love you._

 _Always,_ _  
_ _Bert._

Mary always found herself on the edge of tears when Bert told her that he loved her, the words were so powerful and real when written down, but she would've given anything to have heard him say it. To have him lean into her and whisper those three magic words into her ear. She missed him terribly. He hadn't even been gone a year, but it had felt like an eternity for them both.

Mary took out the spare piece of paper and began to read Bert's poem that he was so dreadfully embarrassed about…

 _A passing touch that never quite meets,_ _  
_ _Two gentle hands longing_ _  
_ _to meet._ _  
_ _A loving gaze the will never be seen,_ _  
_ _Adoring eyes that wonder_ _  
_ _what could have been._

 _A young man waits for his dreams to come true,_ _  
_ _When one day his love will see him and_ _  
_ _remind him why his love grew._ _  
_ _Such hope that she might one day take his hand,_ _  
_ _To give him a smile and make him feel_ _  
_ _oh, so grand._

 _Whilst separated they do not wither,_ _  
_ _For nothing could destroy his love for her_ _  
_ _even when they're not together._ _  
_ _There are so many things he wishes to say, but he sticks to the few,_ _  
_ _For the one thing he wants her to know is:_ _  
_ _"I love you"_

Mary brushed away the tears that stained her cheeks and tried to ignore the torturous ache in her heart.

 **11th January, 1917:**

 _My darling Bert,_

 _Words cannot describe the beauty of what you wrote, nor can they express how truly touched I am. Tell your friend Wilfred that he will not be receiving any letters of displeasure from me!_

 _I'm missing you more and more, but keep fighting, dear – you need to keep smiling too._

 _I'm glad to hear that things have been peaceful over there, I hope it stays that way._

 _The Banks family are doing well, or at least they are considering the circumstances. They have been receiving regular letters from Mr Banks, so at least they know he is still okay. Jane and Michael are being incredibly grown up about it all, I know it's very hard for them, but I really do appreciate it and they do try and help me whenever they can. Mrs Banks is still struggling, though, she's helping with the war effort as much as she can, but she is trying to balance that along with her home duties – it really does put a strain on her. I can see that she wants to dedicate her heart to both causes, but I think she feels guilty about it. I try to help her out at home as much as I can, but I can see that the poor dear is struggling terribly. I think it all boils down to her missing her husband. I can empathise with that._

 _You've told me many times that I should be more selfish, but right now, there are people who need my help and I intend to help them._

 _Stay safe, Bert. I love you._

 _Mary._

Mary never wrote 'I love you' as much as Bert did, perhaps she preferred to savour the words? Or perhaps she just wasn't as expressive? Still, every time she wrote them, she meant it – with every fibre of her being. Bert smiled to himself when he read those infamous words and traced his finger lightly across them, as if it could somehow make him feel closer to the woman her loved.

 **25** **th** **January, 1917:**

Bert felt his heart almost stop when someone shouted the news into his dugout. He felt a sharp ringing in his ears and his palms grew sweaty. But he didn't stop to ask questions, for there was only one question on his mind that day and he knew that no one in that trench could give him the answer. Instead he picked up a pencil and began to scribble desperately…

 _My dearest Mary,_

 _I write this letter with the upmost hope that I shall receive a reply. Word has spread that there was another Zeppelin raid over London last night. None of us have been informed of the damage or which areas of the city have suffered most, but all that matters to me is that you're okay._

 _If you receive this letter please respond to me as soon as you can. Please, Mary!_

 _Whatever happens, know that I will always love you._

 _Yours forever,  
Bert._

 **2** **nd** **February, 1917:**

 _My darling,_

 _You needn't worry about me; whilst there was another attack on London it was quite far from where we live. I was not harmed, nor was anyone we care for, we are all safe, Bert._

 _But London is beginning to suffer, she is a broken city now. She was hit hard by the German bombs – I fear that we cannot go on much longer. You're doing your country proud, Bert. But I do wish you were back home._

 _Chin up, my dear._

 _I love you too._

 _Yours,  
Mary._

Bert felt a few tears fall from his eyes when he opened the letter and in that moment, nothing – not even the war – seemed to matter, his Mary alive and well. That's all he needed.

 **14** **th** **February, 1917:**

 _To my love,_

 _Happy Valentine's day, Mary._

 _There are no words strong enough to describe how much I miss you. During the cold nights, I wish for nothing more than to have you in my arms, just so that I can be near you and so I can keep you warm. I wish that I was back in London with you. I would love nothing more than to hold you close to me and to feel your soft lips on mine. I wish I could say I love you in person, to be able to look into your eyes and embrace you as I say it._

 _I wish I was poetic enough to tell you how much I care for you, all I can really say is that I love you with my whole heart and I'm going to make sure that I return home so I can say it to you – and seal my words with a kiss. I wish I could've told you all of this before the war started._

 _I miss you terribly, Mary, but I just know that'll I'll be home soon._

 _All my love,  
Bert._

Bert was sombre for a few moments as he finished his letter, but he was forcefully dragged from his thoughts by a bellowing shout from beside him.

"Steady on, Bert! That's a bit racy, innit?" the man shouted. It was one of the younger soldiers that Bert shared a trench with.

"'ey! Fred! Were you lookin' at me letter?!" Bert accused sorely.

"Sorry, Bert, but I couldn't resist…sounds like this Mary lass really has you smitten!" he chuckled.

"Oh, is 'e writin' to that Mary Poppins of 'is again?" another voice questioned.

"That one who's too perfect to be true" commented another.

Bert held the letter protectively against his chest, but managed to force a smile.

"She really is perfect" he assured them.

"Ah, every bloke says 'is girl is perfect" one of the soldiers laughed.

"Per'aps" Bert said flippantly.

' _But none of them know Mary Poppins'_ he thought to himself.

The younger soldiers who had spied on Bert's letter sat next to him with a cheeky smile. He leaned leisurely against the trench wall.

"So, Bert, how long has this Mary Poppins been your girl?"

"Well…I don't know if she's 'my girl' – so to speak"

The boy raised his eyebrows.

"I don't believe you, especially after reading what you wrote in that letter!"

"Give us a read, Bert!" one of the other men teased.

"No way!" he exclaimed as he began to blush slightly.

A low rumble of laughter erupted throughout the trench and Bert rubbed the back of his neck.

"Listen, mate -" another soldier began. "—'ave you told this Mary girl that you love 'er?"

"Of course"

"An' 'as this Mary girl said that she loves you?"

"Yeah, she 'as"

The soldier gave a slight shrug and grinned at Bert.

"I really don't think there's anythin' more for me t' say"

"I dunno if we're really 'an item', though…"

"Hey, Bert, have ya ever kissed her?" the young soldier asked – a playful expression painted across his face.

Bert was quiet for a few seconds.

"Yes" he answered reluctantly.

"And have you ever…you know?" the boy gave Bert a wink and began to imply about the prospect of him being intimate with Mary.

"Absolutely not!" Bert almost snapped, "I wouldn't do a thing like that to 'er, not when she's an unmarried woman"

"Ah! So you'll get busy once she's wearing a ring?" the boy teased.

Bert's expression began to cloud over with defence.

"That's not what I meant" he said sternly.

"I know…but you can't deny it, can you?"

"Leave him alone, lad!" an older soldier called out, "Bert's obviously missin' a loved one – just like the rest of us – so don't go winding him up, that's just out of line"

The boy hung his head.

"I apologise, Bert"

But Bert was a gentleman as always and managed to flash the boy a smile.

"Don't worry about it"

 **19** **th** **February, 1917:**

 _My darling, Bert_

 _You simply have no idea how lonely London feels without you. The loss that I feel seems to spread throughout the entire city…London has become a dismal place, but I know that she is still fighting…she is still clinging onto those last few strands of hope. As am I._

 _I want this war to be over, Bert, I want to be in your arms, I want you to kiss me and I want to hear your voice. I want to be with you and know that the war is finally over. Oh, Bert, I do wish you were here with me._

 _I love you, my dear._

 _Mary._

 **4** **th** **March, 1917:**

My dearest Mary,

You will never know how delighted I am when I receive your letters, they are the only part of you I have here. Life out here is getting harder and harder, perhaps it's because I'm finding this life away from you impossibly painful. I do wish we were together…but I suppose there's not much point in wishing, at least not right now.

But don't worry, I haven't given up hope, nor have I lost my fighting spirit – there is still something that keeps me going, and as long as that feeling is inside of me, then I'm going to take a hold of it and never let go. Thank you for the strength that you give me.

As always, I hope you are well, Mary. You haven't spoken much about yourself lately, I do hope that you are not suffering over there. Believe it or not, Mary, I almost crave hearing about how you're getting on over in London – nothing makes me happier than knowing that you're coping and doing well. And when you tell me about your day – and your time with the Banks family – well, it's like an escape. I can lose myself in the calm London life that I crave.

There's nothing more for me to say, Mary – other that I'm still breathing and, as always, I miss you.

All my love,  
Bert.

 **10** **th** **March, 1917:**

Bert,

I am glad that there is still something that can bring you happiness whilst you are in the trenches and you must know that each letter I receive from you fills my heart with joy. They let me know that you are still alive and well – I don't think there's anything that means more to me than that.

Please don't give up, Bert. I couldn't even begin to imagine how hard it must be for you…the things you must have seen…

Please don't give up, Darling – know that I'll always believe in you.

I'm sorry if my letters have been lacking in any way, I didn't feel as if there was anything noteworthy to write about, but if you want to hear about my life here in London, then I shall honour you wishes without a second thought.

Firstly, I am doing fine. Life is still hard, but aside from missing you – I do not suffer nor struggle in abundance. I am taking each day as it comes – with a new hope that the war will end soon. I'm still with the Banks family and I expect that I will stay with them until the war is over. The twins seem to be growing up fast, I do so enjoy my time with them – they possess a seemingly refreshing innocence. However, in truth, I think I enjoy their presence for some other reason…I wonder if the war has given me a new perspective on what I want in life…

Jane and Michael are still coping incredibly well without their father, they support their mother endlessly and she too, is beginning to strengthen. She often confides in me, it's a side of her I've never seen before, but it is a comfort - both for her and myself. I think she talks to me about her problems because she knows that I am also missing someone special. I also make sure to talk with Jane and Michael every evening – just to make sure that they're okay…they're still so young.

Stay safe, Bert.

With love,  
Mary.

 **13** **th** **March, 1917:**

Mary awoke a few days later and could hear an unusual amount of noise coming from downstairs; she was usually the first one awake within the Banks household, but today, that was not the case. She dressed quickly and when she made her way into the dining room she was greeted by Jane, Michael and Mrs Banks – who was holding one of the twins – huddled around a newspaper. They had been speaking with stress and worry, but their words stopped when they saw Mary standing beside them.

"Is something the matter?" Mary asked politely – almost afraid to know the answer.

Mary looked over at Winifred – who had tears streaming down her cheeks.

"Oh, Mary Poppins" she whimpered as she handed Mary the newspaper.

Mary read the headline over and over again – not quite believing the words that she saw.

 **GAS ATTACK BACKFIRES ON BRITISH FORCES.**

She tried to ignore the sense of foreboding that was washing over her as she continued to read.

 **British forces experienced a tragedy as a gas attack against German forces backfired. When the gas was released the wind was coming strongly from the South – company leaders were confident that it would stay as such – but moments after the gas was released, the wind direction changed suddenly, causing the gas to move back to the British trench. The number of casualties is unknown, as is the exact location of this tragedy; but it can be confirmed that it occurred on French soil.**

With her heart racing, Mary looked back over at Mrs Banks and they shared a torturous understanding – both Bert and Mr Banks were fighting in France. Without saying a single word, Mary marched back up to her room – hiding her tears as she did so.

 _My dearest Bert,_

 _I have recently heard about a mishap that occurred on French soil involving a gas attack from the British forces. I know I sent my last letter only a few days ago, but I do hope you will be able to write back soon. Bert I'm terrified. Whilst I know that there is every possibility that you are alive and well, I can't ignore the fact that there's that one chance that you may have been harmed, or worse…_

 _I'm trying so desperately not to think about it, and perhaps it is bad for me to be writing this letter mere minutes after receiving this news, but, Bert, I simply cannot bear the thought of something happening to you – it is far too painful._

 _My dear, I hope with all my heart that you are okay. If so, please write back soon._

 _I love you._

 _Always,  
Mary._

 **16** **th** **March, 1917:**

 _My darling Bert,_

 _In all honesty, I'm not quite sure why I'm writing this letter; I still have not heard from you since the gas attack tragedy, so one might say that is a pointless act. But, I think writing these letters gives me a burst of hope – as if it makes it easier to believe that you are unharmed, even if it's only for a moment. Some may say that writing these extra letters does nothing but cause me pain, perhaps that's true, but I cannot bring myself to sit idly and worry. I know you hate it when I panic, but I simply cannot help it, Bert. If I receive a letter from you then that will put me at ease for a while; but I don't think I'll be truly settled until you're back home._

 _Mrs Banks hasn't received a letter from Mr Banks for a few days, so naturally she is worried sick too. I do so hope he was not involved in the mishap – I hope that about you both. You both deserve to be safe, in fact, you both deserve to be home and away from the trenches._

I know that Mrs Banks is trying hard to put on a brave face for her children, but it's ever so hard for her. She still helps with the war effort whenever she can, but I think she's beginning to crumble. Sometimes I see it when she looks at John and Barbara – there's a certain look in her eye that seems to convey guilt. If anything, Mrs Banks wants to help too many people; she wants to support her fighting husband, her frightened children and her suffering country. She doesn't receive enough credit for what she does. And neither do you.

 _Bert, my dear, I do hope that I will hear back from you soon._

 _Love,  
Mary._

 **19** **th** **March, 1917:**

 _My darling Bert,_

 _Mrs Banks received a letter from her husband this morning, he is alive and well and was not involved in the gas attack tragedy. I am truly happy for Mr Banks and his family and I am greatly relieved that they have avoided the extra hardships._

 _I have still not heard anything from you, my dear, and my worry increases with each passing day. I try my best not to show it, but there's only so much trauma I can hide; I feel that the Banks family have noticed this, but they say nothing to me – out of kindness. I don't mind that, in fact, I'm not sure I'd want them to say anything; I know that they'd mean well, but even the kindest of words would not assure me that you're safe and I'm sure that they know that knowing such a fact would be the only thing to cure me of this distress._

 _I'm still supporting you, Bert, and I do hope to hear from you soon – I'm not sure I can carry on much longer. I just need to know if you're okay – even if the answer causes me pain._

 _I love you._

 _Mary._

 **23** **rd** **March, 1917:**

 _To my love,_

 _Bert, my darling, I fear that my worst fears may soon become a reality. I still have not heard from you. The only spec of hope left comes from the fact that I have not been informed of any harm that has fallen upon you._

 _Bert, I cannot take this anymore, I just need to know if you're okay. I cannot sleep at night, instead I lie awake with a fearful heart and tear-filled eyes. All I can think about is the possibility of you no longer being here – it's a torturous thought that I cannot bear, yet it's all I can think about. It's made me truly realise that cannot live without you._

 _I always knew that you were special to me, you were the only person I ever let get close to me. I told my secrets to no one else…I never shared my feelings, adventures or heart with anyone except you. I need you, Bert, I need you in so many ways._

 _Please be safe, Bert, please write to me and please come home._

 _I love you. I love you so much._

 _Yours forever,  
Mary._

 **26** **th** **March, 1917:**

Mary had still not heard from Bert and it had taken its toll on her. She continued to work just as hard with the Banks family, but they could see how much she was suffering; her skin was pale and her eyes red. But beyond that, her gaze seemed stoic – almost vacant; as if a part of her was missing…well, that was true. She was without Bert and was constantly haunted by the fact that she may never see him again. Her speaking voice still had its iconic melodic tone, but Jane and Michael suspected that it was forced for their sake. In their eyes, she was truly amazing. Each day she had to face the ever growing possibility that Bert had been injured or killed in a gas mishap, yet she still tried her absolute best to make sure that _they_ were happy. They had no idea how she could be so wholly selfless.

But that morning, whilst stood by the front door, Mary held a letter in her hand. Jane and Michael watched from the top of the stairs – not making a single sound. They both hoped with all of their might that the letter would in fact inform Mary that Bert was safe; that it would be a letter in his charming hand writing that would bring the life back to her. But Mary didn't open it for a while, she took the time to just stare at it – her gaze sceptical.

' _It's not from him'_ she thought to herself hopelessly.

But regardless she opened the letter and after a moment's hesitation, began to read…

 _Dear Miss Poppins,_

 _We regret to inform you that Mr Bert Alfred received a gunshot wound to the chest on March 14_ _th_ _(1917). However, we can inform you that Mr Alfred did not die from his wounds. He was safely recovered and taken to a nearby hospital in France. Attached to this letter is an address that you may send letters to._

 _It is not known how long Mr Alfred will remain in hospital care as his wound was quite severe and it is highly likely that he will also experience shell shock once he is back on his feet. As of now, Mr Alfred is still in a critical state and we – unfortunately – cannot guarantee that he will recover from his injuries. We will let you know if his condition worsens._

 _\- TM_

Mary felt the world around her spin, like her mind could no longer focus. Her heart began to beat violently, her breathing quickened, her limbs went weak and she soon collapsed onto her knees with hot tears falling onto her cheeks.

"Mary Poppins!" Michael gasped as he and Jane charged down the stairs.

"Mother!" Jane called, "Mother! Quickly!"

Jane was soon by Mary's side and could do nothing but let her heart break as she watched her broken nanny cry. Mary cried into her hands desperately and didn't even noticed the soothing hands of Jane and Michael on her shoulders. The letter lay alone on the cold floors. Mrs Banks soon came striding out of the drawing room.

"What's happened?" Winifred exclaimed in a tone that was laced with horror.

"We don't know -" Jane began – her voice starting to crack form panic, "—but she just received a letter…"

"Oh no…" Mrs Banks breathed, "…Bert"

"He's been shot" Mary whimpered.

The world seemed to fall into silence.

"No! No, he couldn't have been! Not Bert!" Michael protested.

"Jane, Michael, go upstairs"

"But, mother -"

"Now" Winifred said sternly.

The children eventually obeyed. Mrs Banks knelt beside Mary and pulled her into an embrace.

"Shhh, dear, shhh, it's going to be alright"

"He's been shot, Mrs Banks…he's been shot and they're not sure if he'll recover"

Winfred began to cry too, she had become very close with Mary since she had returned to them and ever since they first met she had always known Mary as the strongest, kindest and most cheerful woman she'd ever met – as if sunshine followed her wherever she went. Yet here was that same woman, completely broken and crying within her arms. It was the true epitome of tragedy and the pain that the war had caused.

"It's okay, Mary…" she soothed, "…at least you know he's alive, and you know that Bert is a fighter, he'll pull through this"

"I can't lose him…" she choked, "…I just can't bear to be without him…"

Winfred held Mary tighter.

"Shhh, it's okay….you're not going to lose him"

But Mary knew that was a piecrust promise.

 ***!***

 **Please don't hurt me!**

 **Okay, I am very sorry if that killed you - truly!**

 **But, I can promise you that the next chapter will be up very soon so all of your questions will be answered!**

 **Anyway, I really hope you enjoyed that!**

 **I'd love to hear your thoughts! :) xx**


	4. Chapter 4

**Here's the latest chapter - I'm sorry if I've kept you waiting too long, but I hope it's worth it!**

 **Please let me know what you think! x**

 **Keep The Home Fires Burning  
Chapter Four**

 **28** **th** **March, 1917:**

When Bert stirred awake, he was greeted by the most intense pain shooting across his chest, it was like a deep ache that constricted his body like the suffocation of a serpent. He tried to look around the room, but his vision began to blur as he moved his head and a seemingly cracking pain seemed to craze across his cranium. His head fell back against the pillows and his expression turned into a twisted grimace. He began to breath heavily from panic, but it soon caused him to grunt as a new intense wave of pain shot through him. It was felt as if someone had taken a blade and driven it deep into his chest. Bert gritted his teeth and felt his eyes begin to water – in response, he clamped them shut and took sharp, shallow breaths until the pain faded.

Bert slowly brushed the sweat from his brow – his skin now pale and almost lifeless. He eventually angled his head so that he could examine the part of his chest that throbbed so torturously and what he saw made the world around him spiral and spin. He wore no shirt and saw that part of his chest was wrapped in a layer of bloodied bandages – the source of the red pool came from his right pectoral. Stupidly, he reached up to poke the wound and cried out again as his fingers pressed against the bandages. He hissed violently to try and stifle his grunts, but the pain was so excruciating. Once again, his head fell back against the pillows and he began to feel numb – like he could faint at any moment. He turned his head when he heard the sound of soft footsteps moving towards him.

"Oh, Mr Alfred, you're awake!" a sweet voice said.

When his vision finally cleared he saw a young nurse with wisps of dark hair spilling out from her nurse's hat.

"Awake?"

"Yes, you haven't been very responsive lately…of course, you've been conscious, but not to a significant level"

"What…what 'appened to me?" Bert groaned as he looked as his bandages.

"You were shot, Mr Alfred" she said sombrely.

"I…what?"

"You were shot in the chest a couple of weeks ago, luckily you were brought here for treatment…for a while we weren't sure if you were going to make it through or not, but you seem to be steadily improving which is promising"

"So…I'm gonna be okay?"

"For now, Mr Alfred, we want you to focus on making sure you're well rested" she said vaguely, "Mr Alfred, I need to apply a fresh layer of bandages, do you think you could sit up for me?"

"I'll try" he groaned.

Bert shuffled for a moment, but as soon as he put any weight on his arms that very same stabbing sensation shot through him and with a strangled cry Bert fell flat onto his back.

"I'm sorry…" Bert hissed, "…I can't"

"That's alright…do you think you could try and lie on your side?"

Bert attempted that too and after some struggling he managed to lie on his left side – it was painful, but bearable and the nurse made sure to do her job quickly. She applied fresh bandages over his old ones and Bert craned his neck to look at her quizzically.

"I – uh – don't mean t' interfere, but wouldn't it be a better idea t' put on some fresh ones?"

The nurse gave him a motherly smile.

"If I were to remove the bandages that are already there I would damaging any scabbing that has formed over the wound which would mean it won't heal as well, so for the most part, you will simply receive a thin layer of fresh bandages"

"Oh, I see"

"You can lie back down now, Mr Alfred" she said sweetly. He did so.

"Thank you" Bert said quietly.

"Oh, I just remembered – something came for you today, Mr Alfred, I'll be back in a moment" and with that, she walked away.

Bert sighed as he became overwhelmed by what he had just learnt, he had been shot. He looked down at his now clean bandages and he felt his pulse quicken as he realised just how close the wound was to his heart…he had been so close to death. He felt his head spin. It was a heightened realisation, almost as if he had been given a whole new perspective; he could suddenly see things in much more detail…the very thing he never would've seen if he hadn't been so lucky.

But his world really began to spin when his mind remembered Mary. She nearly lost him, he couldn't help but think how broken she would've been if she had received the dreaded "Killed in action" telegram; he couldn't bear the thought of doing that to her, not to his Mary. He wanted to always be by her side. He could feel his heartache grow, he nearly caused Mary such torture, but he became determined to never let it happen again; he had been given a new burst of internal strength. He sworn that day that would return home to her, no matter what.

' _They must 'ave told 'er that I'd been shot…I can't imagine 'ow painful that must've been…"_ he thought, _'I need to write to 'er, let 'er know I'm safe…I can't stand the idea of 'er panicking!'_

Just as those thoughts occurred to him, the nurse returned to his bedside – holding an envelope in her hand.

"A letter arrived for you this morning, Mr Alfred" she said with a smile as she handed it to him.

Bert studied the handwriting and knew from the perfect artistic curve of each letter who it was from.

"It's from 'er!" he beamed.

"Pardon me for prying, Mr Alfred, but who is 'her'?"

"Mary…" he said with a loving smile.

"Is Mary your wife?"

"No, she's not my wife…"

"Do you want her to be?"

Bert smiled as he pondered her question,

"Per'aps one day…If she'll 'ave me"

The nurse smiled warmly.

"I'll give you some privacy"

Bert opened the letter as soon as she left and took a moment to admire its form – this was the only piece of Mary he had with him.

 _My darling Bert,_

 _For the past few weeks I have been utterly petrified. When I stopped receiving your letters I was certain that something tragic had happened…I feared that I would never see you again. I write this after just finding out that you have in fact been shot in the chest, with no guarantee that you will recover. Bert, I'm so glad that you're alive, but I'm so, so scared. I can't lose you, Bert, I just can't. You have been my closest friend for so long, the only one I let get close to me and you're the man I love…I couldn't dream of a life without you. I don't think I'll ever be able to let you know just how much I treasure you, darling._

 _If you're reading this, then I hope that means that you are recovering; please stay strong, my dear, please keep fighting – I know that you can get through this. Please know that there is never a moment when I'm not thinking of you, I may be physically in London, but my spirit is always with you._

 _The address I was given informs me that you're currently in a hospital in Calais, Bert, I so desperately want to visit you, but I simply cannot travel to Calais, it is either not possible or too dangerous…this makes me feel awfully useless, but I do hope you understand my decision. However, if you are ever transferred to a hospital in England I will be there in an instant._

 _I hope you are comfortable in the hospital – I do so wish I could be there with you in this difficult time. Make sure you get plenty of rest so that you can make a full recovery. I don't want anything else happening to you._

 _I hope you'll be able to write back soon._

 _Get well soon._

 _All my love,  
Mary._

 **2** **nd** **April, 1917:**

Mary practically cried with delight when she received Bert's latest letter and for a while she simply held the document against her chest, revelling in the fact that he was still alive.

 _Mary, my love,_

 _I simply cannot imagine how difficult this past month must have been for you and it breaks my heart to know that you have been plagued with such terror, but I'm alive, Mary and I promise you that I'm going to pull through this, I'm going to make a full recovery and one day I will be back in London with you – I swear it!_

 _Please don't worry about me, Mary, I am NEVER going to leave you. Remember the day I left, I made you a Bert Alfred promise, that promise stated that I would come home safe and sound and remember what I told you about a Bert Alfred promise? – They've never been broken and I do not intend to break this one either._

 _It all comes down to one thing, Mary: I love you. I love you with all my heart and I'll never stop – and one day I'll be able to say it to you in person, just you wait. My life is meaningless without you, Mary Poppins – you're all I have left in this world._

 _Mary, the LAST thing you are is useless, I desperately want to see you too, but NOT if it will risk your safety. I know that you cannot get any regular transport over here and I will not allow you to fly here under any circumstances, I will not let you risk your life for me. But I know that I will see you soon and that is enough to keep me going._

 _Finally, the hospital is fine, so please do not worry about me; I will honour your wishes and I'll make sure that I get plenty of rest…in all honesty, there's a bullet wound in my chest so I can't really do anything apart from lie here!_

 _Please send my love to the Banks family. Make sure you look after them, Mary, but most importantly, make sure you look after yourself._

 _I love you, my dear._

 _Always,  
Bert._

 _P.S: Keep the home fires burning._

 **6** **th** **April, 1917:**

 _Bert,_

 _I hope this letter finds you well and I hope that you are still firmly on the road to recovery._

 _As I'm sure you know, today we received the news that America would finally be joining our side in this war, I hope that this may speed things up…perhaps the extra allies will finally bring all this fighting to an end._

 _The Banks family are all still doing well and appreciate that you ask after them regularly. Things have become much more of a routine as of late, I know it's not a routine that anyone should have to adjust to, but has certainly made life easier for them. Jane has been begging her mum to let her join in with her mother's campaigning, but she's still not allowed, Mrs Banks that she's too young – and I'm quite inclined to agree. Incidentally, Jane will turn sixteen next week, so I thought I should tell you just in case you want to write to her – I know she'd truly appreciate it._

 _Not much else to tell you, I'm afraid._

 _Get well soon, darling._

 _Love,  
Mary._

 **0oooooooooooooo0**

 **30** **th** **June, 1917:**

Mary awoke with a sudden jolt in the middle of the night – a strong sense of terror coursing through her veins. Her chest rose and fell with the force of her heavy breaths and she could feel her heart pounding within her - as if it were desperate for escape. She brushed the beads of sweat from her brow and simply sat in her bed until she felt her heart rate begin to steady. Her dream had been so real. The fear made her stomach feel completely hollow and her head light – these feelings made her almost paralysed and the visions she had dreamt were painfully fresh in her mind. She gulped and gripped into the covers so that she could steady herself and to make sure that she was back in Number Seventeen and far away from where she had just been.

She rubbed her eyes with exhaustion; this had happened every day for a week now and she didn't know if she'd be able to stand it for much longer. Every time Mary closed her eyes at night, her sleep was intruded by torturous visions of Bert lying injured in No Man's Land. It was the same each time. He would run through the deathly field of monochrome, his head down as he braced against the heavy gunfire and endless onslaught of shells; mud would fly everywhere with each fresh explosion – the sounds deafening. Then each night, Mary would watch as a German bullet would rip straight through his stomach – sending him to the ground in agony. Mary would always cry out in her dream, but she never made any sound, in these dreams she was nothing more than a spiritual presence – never being physically there – and each night, she would watch as Bert slowly died. She would wake up after that, trembling feverishly with tears soon staining her cheeks. It seemed to feel more real each time.

Mary took a deep breath, and with her legs still weak, she slipped from her bed, put on her dressing gown and crept downstairs and out the front door just as the clock chimed for midnight. The night air was cool and refreshing, like a sudden reminder of reality; and although her reality wasn't much of a comfort, it still reminded her that Bert was still in the hospital and away from the frontline…but most importantly, it reminded her that he was alive. The breeze caused her long brunette locks to dance and Mary closed her eyes as the wind washed over her small frame – it had always been a soothing sensation for her. She always liked how fresh and free the wind felt – nature's personification of freedom, although, in the past it had been quite the opposite for her.

"Mary?" a tender voice arose from behind her.

Mary whipped around and saw Jane stood in her nightgown – her expression confused.

"Jane Banks, what on earth are you doing out here at this hour?"

"I could ask you the same question"

Mary shot her a stern look, but her eyes were still soft as they were lit by the moonlight.

"I couldn't sleep…" Jane said shyly, "…and I heard footsteps, so I sort of…followed you"

Mary looked at the child softly – they were now stood side-by-side.

"I couldn't sleep either" Mary admitted.

"Really?"

"You don't need to sound so astonished, Jane…I'm human too, you know?"

"Sorry, I didn't mean to be rude, it's just that, well, you've always seemed so faultless and-"

"—Jane, I was only teasing" Mary said lightly.

"Oh…"

"I suppose you're not so used to that either?"

"I'm afraid not"

Mary sighed slightly.

"Well, Jane, you're a young woman now, so I can't really treat you like a child…not unless I need to, of course" there was the oh so familiar flash of mischief in Mary's eyes and Jane smiled as she recognised the nanny she had known before the war.

"Why couldn't you sleep, Mary Poppins?"

Mary felt herself tense for just a moment.

"I don't think there was any reason for it…sometimes – like everyone else – I just find it hard to sleep"

"Were you worrying about Bert?" she asked almost shyly.

"Hmmm?"

"Well, that's usually why I can't sleep, because I'm so worried about my father…he told me that I needn't worry about him, but I just do and every night I seem to worry more and more"

Mary felt an ache in her heart that was painfully familiar to her. No child should ever have to experience war, they should never have to lie awake at night and wonder if their own father will still be alive in the morning.

"Sometimes people just can't help but worry…" she said as she gazed up at the stars, "…but there's nothing wrong with that, it just means that we love them"

Jane was quiet for a moment as she took in what Mary had said and the heavy truth behind it.

"Do you love Bert, Mary Poppins?" she asked quietly.

Mary let out a small sigh.

"I know how much you love your father, Jane and I know how proud you are of him, so don't feel guilty about worrying, he only asks you not to so that he knows you're still happy…but worrying about someone you love is normality and, in truth, I think he'd be rather touched by it…you know as well as I do, Jane that it's a horrid system, the ones we love go out and fight for our freedom and happiness and while they're out there facing all sorts of dangers we're here living in almost perfect safety. Straight away we feel guilty for the danger we don't have to face, but then they ask us not to worry, that they want us to smile and enjoy ourselves, but how can we possibly do that when they're risking their lives?"

She paused briefly,

"There's two sides to every coin, the only trouble is that those two sides will never meet so they'll never truly understand the perspective of the other..."

"It's been three years since the war started…sometimes I think that the end is only just around the corner, but sometimes I lose all hope and think that it will never end, or that it'll end with Britain defeat…"

"You mustn't think like that, Jane…I know you can't help it – everyone has thoughts like that – but you must do your very best to try and ignore them, if not for your sake then for your father's"

"My father's?"

Mary nodded.

"Just like every other soldier out there, he can't afford to have such thoughts…he's fighting for you, Jane and your whole family; he needs to strongly believe that he can make a difference and give peace and freedom to you, your family and everyone else in this country – it would help if those back home shared those beliefs…just so his fighting is worthwhile"

"You're right" Jane said with a sombre tone.

"Don't look so defeated, dear –" Mary comforted, "—I know that you believe in your father and I know that deep down your heart is filled with optimism and a truly admirable fighting spirit – just don't let that spark die, Jane"

"Thank you" Jane smiled.

They stood there for a little longer, simply taking in how peaceful London was…it was a sight they rarely saw.

"You never answered my question, Mary Poppins"

"Oh? What was that?"

"I asked you if you loved Bert"

Jane knew better than to pry into Mary's business, but she felt that this was a necessary question to ask; she saw how terrified she was when heard that he had been shot and she knew that she lived for his letters…perhaps she just wanted Mary to admit it, or perhaps she just wanted the clarification so that Jane could still believe in the existence of love in such dark times. She had expected to receive one of Mary's famous 'I never explain anything' responses, but instead, she was given an answer more powerful than she ever could have imagined…

"With everything I have"

"You do?"

"Truly…I regret not admitting it before the war or at least before he was sent away…but…" Mary stopped as she felt a lump form in her throat. She took a deep breath, "…but I can take some comfort from him knowing that I truly, truly love him"

"He'll be back, Mary Poppins…when this war is over he'll come back to London"

"So he keeps telling me"

"Do you…do you think you'll marry him?"

Jane couldn't see it, but Mary's eyes flew open with surprise. She flashed Jane a small smirk.

"Jane, dear, you're starting to pry"

Mary could see a flash of excitement within Jane's eyes – she knew that the little girl from all those years ago was still very much a part on the fifteen-year-old that now stood in front of her.

"But do you think you'll ever marry him?"

"Oh, come on now -"

"What about children? Do you think you'll have a family together?"

"Jane!" Mary almost exclaimed as she felt herself begin to blush.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Mary Poppins…it's just that I think you and Bert both deserve to be happy…I saw how well you two got along when Michael and I were just children – you seem perfect for each other…"

Mary felt her lips curl into a smile.

"…I've seen the way you behave with the twins too, even when they were mere months old I could see how happy you were; you really looked like a mother, Mary Poppins – a mother that was adoring every single second of it…and I've seen how scared you've been whilst Bert's been over in France…I just want you to have your own happy ending, Mary"

Mary gave Jane a motherly smile.

"Jane, you really have grown into a wonderful young woman…but you really should be getting back to bed"

"Could you answer one last question?" she asked cheekily.

Mary raised her eyebrows but eventually chuckled.

"Okay, one last question – _If_ you promise to go back to bed afterwards?"

"I promise"

"Okay, what's your question?"

"After the war, if Bert one day asked you to marry him, would you say 'yes' or 'no'?"

Mary chuckled, mostly from embarrassment, but also because of how confident Jane had become.

"Well?" Jane pressed.

Mary decided to be truthful with Jane' she supposed that she didn't have to be so secluded with her feelings all of the time. So, with a smile, she gave her answer…

"I would, without a doubt, say 'yes'"

 **0ooooooooooooooo0**

 **30** **th** **July, 1917:**

 _My dearest Mary,_

 _I thought I should write to let you know that I'm doing a lot better! My chest still aches a fair bit, but I can actually sit up on my own! I'm allowed to walk around whenever I feel like it, but there's really nothing to see here so I tend to just sketch or read throughout the day. I have made friends, though, the fellas that I share a room with are pretty funny guys – especially considering the situation we're all in. They don't get any visitors either, none of their loved ones can get over from France so I think we're all grateful for each other's company._

 _If there's one thing that I can take away from this, it's that it has felt so good to be away from the trenches – even if there's a bullet hole in my chest. I know I've never spoken about the trenches, nor have I spoken sombrely about anything; but I simply cannot lie about them…they are the most awful place I've ever experienced. Each day you must wade through water, mud and disease…the nights are cold and the days not much better – except in the summer when it's unbearably hot. But even if you can get used to all of that and the endless barrage of shells, there's nothing quite like the lack of hope that's found in a trench. In truth, when my time in this hospital is done, I hope I'm sent back to England._

 _I'm sorry for sharing all of that, you know that I would never want to upset you or make you worry, but it's all that's been on my mind. I know that my time here will soon come to an end, I imagine that I'll only be here for another month before I'm discharged…I just hope that when the day does come, I'm sent far away from the fighting._

 _I miss you, Mary, and I love you._

 _Forever,  
Bert._

 **7** **th** **August, 1917:**

 _Dearest Bert,_

 _You have no idea how happy I am to hear that you are recovering so well! For the longest time, I truly feared that you would not pull through, not because I lacked faith in you, but because I lost faith in the war-driven world; things seemed all too well for so long that I was sure we were about to hit a string of bad luck. Yet here you are, still writing to me and you still have a firm hold on your fighting spirit. You really are amazing._

 _Bert, you must have seen so many ghastly things whilst in the trenches, you don't deserve that, you don't deserve any of the horrors you've had to endure…know that if I could trade places with you, I would in a heartbeat. But know that I'm always sending strength to you._

 _You belong here in London, Bert, it's your home and I truly hope that whoever makes the decision can see that too – I hope I'll be lucky enough to have you return to me. Know that if you should get sent to England, I'll do whatever it takes to come and see you. I just want you to hold me._

 _Mrs Banks has kindly put together a sort of care package for both you and Mr Banks, that should hopefully arrive within the next couple of days. She insists that it's nothing too extravagant, but hopes that it'll help keep you both going. Jane and Michael have also assured me that they plan on sending you a couple of letters, so you'll have those to look forward to as well. They're so proud of you, Bert – but they worry too._

 _I hope good luck should find you soon._

 _All my love,  
Mary._

 **13** **th** **August, 1917:**

 _Dear Bert,_

 _This letter is from both Jane and Michael._

 _We just wanted to say that we're so glad you're getting better – we were so scared when we found out what happened to you. We really hate the fact that both you and father have to fight in this war. You've always been like family to us, Bert – Mary Poppins too – we had so much fun with you when we were younger and it's a shame that we didn't see you more often after Mary left us. Promise that you'll visit us after the war is over? We miss you very much – you need to meet out baby siblings too! I'm sure Mary Poppins has told you all about them._

 _Speaking of Mary Poppins, she misses you ever so much. She probably doesn't tell you this, but she really does struggle sometimes and we hate to see her so defeated…some days she's as she usually is: bright, cheerful and often singing as she looks after us and the twins; but other days she's quiet and sad, we can see it in her eyes. On those days, she can barely crack a smile. It's because she's so worried about you, Bert and it's exhausting for her. We hate to see her so broken – she needs you, Bert…and I think she's starting to realise that more and more with each new day._

 _We wish you all the love and luck in the world – maybe we can all have another jolly holiday together when the war is finally over?_

 _Love,  
Jane and Michael._

 **0oooooooooooooooooo0**

 **23** **rd** **August, 1917:**

Bert's heart practically dropped when he heard the news and for a while he couldn't figure out if he was about to cry, scream or faint. Instead, he just stood in silence and could've sworn that he felt the colour and life drain form his face; he felt as if the room was being sucked into a vacuum – and he was the only thing that remained static. He could hear the violent thump of his heart. He made his ways back to his bed – each step feeling heavier than the last – as if his body was trying to prevent time from moving forward.

 _My darling Mary,_

 _Good luck has not found me this time, but at least she was my companion for a short while. I have pretty much made a full recovery and am fit for duty again – therefore I will be discharged from the hospital at the end of the month._

 _Mary, please know that if anything happens to me than I will go on loving you – I only wish I could've been brave enough to tell you how I felt about you long ago; I've had feelings for you for so long and I feel like I've wasted so much precious time._

 _Mary, I'm being sent back into the trenches._

 _Yours forever,  
Bert._

 ****!****

 **So, there you go! That was chapter four! I'm not sure how many more chapter I'll write, probably no more than two - three at the most.**

 **Still, I'm really enjoying writing this, I have a bunch of ideas and it's all flowing easily - so, as always, the next chapter should be up within a few days!**

 **Anyway, I REALLY hope you enjoyed this! - I'd love to hear your thoughts! xxx**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Greetings! So, you know the drill by now, I upload a new chapter and you guys HOPEFULLY enjoy it! Hehe!**

 **Anyway, I do hope you enjoy this chapter, it's a little shorter but hopefully just as good. I'm thinking that there will only be one or two chapters left - but I'll let you know when it's officially about to end.**

 **I've tried a few new angles and ideas in this one, so I would really love to hear your feedback. But the most important thing is that you enjoy it! :)**

 **Keep The Home Fires Burning  
Chapter Five**

 **27** **th** **August, 1917:**

 _Dearest Bert,_

 _Please say it is not so. You can't go back into the trenches, you simply can't! I don't care how much you've recovered and I don't care about how capable you are – I don't want to go back to lying awake every night wondering if you're still alive! It was horrific, Bert! Knowing that tomorrow was never guaranteed for you, knowing that one day I might wake up and find out that you'll never be coming back! I don't want anything to happen to you, dear, the day I found out that'd you'd been shot felt like the end of the world, Bert – the end of MY world! I can't go through that again, and I don't think I can live through another day of nothing but worry…it feels like I'm just waiting for something terrible to happen. Bert, I can't lose you!_

 _Isn't there anything that you can do, is there any way you can get sent back to England? Or anywhere that's safer than the trenches?_

 _Please don't feel like you wasted any of our time together, I too wish I'd told you how I truly felt about you long ago; but I am so grateful for the years that we have spent together – I truly treasure our friendship. I would much rather have our lives play out this way, than have to live a life where we never told each other how we truly felt. If this is all we can have then I'll accept and value every second of it. But I desperately hope that we have many more years to share._

 _I love you, Bert – nothing will ever change that. If you are fated to return to the trenches, then all I ask is that you stay safe…for once, I want you to put yourself first. As you once told me, we all need to be selfish sometimes._

 _Yours,  
Mary._

 **31** **st** **August, 1917:**

 _My darling Mary,_

 _I have never heard such desperation from you and that truly breaks my heart, the last thing I want is for you to worry about me; I want you to live peacefully – after all, that's what I'm fighting for. It's truly soul destroying to think of you with anything but a smile on your face. But unfortunately, Mary, what I said was true, I am in fact going back to the trenches and there's nothing I can do to change that – I asked many times about being sent back to England, but their decision was made and it was final._

 _I promise you that'll I'll be okay, Mary, it may be true that I can never truly promise that nothing will happen to me, but you have no idea how hard you make me fight – you give me such strength, Mary; and strength is enough to see me through all of this. I am going to make sure that I come out of this alive, not just for my sake, but for yours too. I want to return to you, my dear. Not only have you kept the home fires burning, but you've kept mine burning too; my life would be incomplete without you, so my promise stands, when all of this is over I will come back to London safe and sound. I beg that you don't weep for me, Mary – just keep your head held high, that's all I ask. Don't allow my potential misfortune to be the downfall of your own happiness._

 _I love you, Mary – I love you beyond words and I'm going to make sure that this war is not the end of me, I'm going to make sure that we will be together after all of this. Our time isn't over yet, my dear._

 _Always,  
Bert._

 **4** **th** **September, 1917:**

Bert felt his entire body tighten as he stepped back into the trenches that morning. He found himself struggling to breath as his lungs seemed to twist with fear. He felt his hands begin to tremble as the sounds of gunfire began to pick up – he felt like he was going to throw up. Soon he found himself panting and he had to bolt into his dug out to stop himself from fainting; as he collapsed onto his bed he buried his face into his hands and let a few tears slide onto his cheeks as his limbs trembled feverishly.

' _I can't do this'_ he thought to himself, _'not again…not again'_

He seemed to be reminded of all the horrors he so desperately tried to repress – the horrors that he never told Mary about in his letters. The way lifeless bodies would be thrown into piles and wheeled away is if there were nothing more than pieces of gathered timber; the way that death became just a thing that happened rather than a tragedy. The way the sun never seemed to shine anymore and the only sounds that could ever be heard were shells, tanks, gunfire and the occasional scream of a fallen soldier. The way that death had become more common than life; seeing the death of a solider, an animal or even a plant – well that was normality…it had almost become more shocking to see someone or something living and breathing. The trenches were filled with lost hope and overwhelming hatred, yet if you asked the soldiers what they were _really_ fighting for, they probably couldn't tell you.

Bert felt his heart almost stop completely as a nearby shell exploded somewhere beyond the trench and his skin was slick with sweat. He wasn't sure if he could survive this, but he knew that he had to.

 _My darling Mary,_

 _I arrived back in the trenches today and nothing has changed – I'm not quite sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing. But things seem somewhat calm, perhaps that could be a sign that the war may be finally coming to a close?_

 _I hope you're not worrying too much, after all, the Banks family need you and I'm doing perfectly fine. I guess I'm just going to do what I did before and take each day as it comes. The war will be over soon, Mary._

 _Look after the Banks family and send them my love._

 _I'll see you soon, dear. I love you._

 _Always,  
Bert._

 **11th September, 1917:**

Mary could tell that there was something wrong when she read Bert's last letter, his words were abnormally distant – like he was holding back on so much, to the point where he barely had anything to say at all. Simply by reading his words she could tell that something was wrong. She felt a heavy ache in her chest, Bert was suffering, but he was hundreds of miles away and in the middle of a war zone – she couldn't do anything to help and that was what killed her. She flicked away the single tear that had rolled down her cheek and simply stared down at Bert's letter – taking in every detail of his handwriting…she hadn't seen his face in so long and the details were starting to become blurred in her mind. She hated herself because the face that she loved so dearly was slowly fading from her memories.

 _Dear Bert,_

 _I fear that there are many things you're not telling me, I know sometimes it can be best to not focus on your fears so that you do not worry irrationally but sometimes it's best to do quite the opposite. I do hope you're not holding back or bottling up your fears for my sake. I know you, Bert, you're kind and sensitive – and sometimes that can end up hurting you…I think you're just as selfless as I am. However, your concern is truly endearing. Bert, dear, if there is anything that you fear, please do not hesitate to tell me, I would feel truly awful if I knew that you were suffering unnecessarily._

 _Bert, you know full well that I will never stop worrying about you, but know that's it's simply because I care about you. We're all worrying about you, Bert, but we're all incredibly proud of your bravery and selfless commitment – you've got the heart of a hero, my dear._

 _The twins have grown up so much this past year, I can't wait for you to meet them – you're going to adore them! They're such sweethearts! Although, I have to admit that I still see Jane and Michael as the two sweet, little children they were all those years ago…even if they are nearly as tall as me now!_

 _We're all thinking of you, dear._

 _With love,  
Mary._

 **0oooooooooooooooo0**

 **24** **th** **December, 1917:**

Midnight was mere minutes away – soon it would be yet another Christmas in the trenches – and Bert could barely see as he scrawled away with his pencil – the cool air whipping around his frame.

 _My darling Mary,_

 _I had hoped that I would never have to write another letter to you on this day, yet here is another Christmas that I must spend so painfully far away from you. The men are much lower in spirits than they were last year…I can't say I blame them. We have been fighting for years and it seems as if we've made no progress at all…sometimes I find myself wondering who we're really fighting…or what we're even fighting for anymore. This whole war started because one man got shot and the allies started falling like dominos, but when you stop and think about it, none of the countries involved truly hate each other – we're all just trying to protect ourselves…but we shouldn't have to do that…I had always hoped that we lived in a world where things like this would never happen. I hope I didn't misplace my faith._

 _I hope this will be the last Christmas any of us will have to spend in the trenches._

 _Oh, Mary, my dear, I miss you so much! Things would be so much better if I could just hold you in my arms – even if it were only for a moment. I think I'm finally beginning to realise Lord Kitchener's preference for bachelors as soldiers, I think he realised that although many soldiers fear death, the one thing we fear more is that death prevents us from returning to our loved ones. I'll admit that I share that fear. You have no idea what it would mean to me if I could just hold you, see your face, hear your voice and to kiss you with all my worth. Things are lonely over here, Mary, but they seem worse at Christmas time._

 _I hope you still find joy during this holiday, I don't want you spending it in misery, you deserve happiness so please promise me that you'll find it wherever you can. I'll be home soon._

 _Merry Christmas, Mary. I love you._

 _Always,  
Bert._

As Bert stopped writing his head snapped upwards as a low murmur could be heard from the German trench.

"What the bloody hell is that?" one of the soldiers questioned as he boldly moved towards the parapet.

They could all hear the faint mumbling sound, but simply had no idea what it could be. It seemed to be almost melodic in existence. Almost like voices.

"D'ya think Jerry's got some kinda attack planned?" a young boy almost said with cowardice.

"Seem too quiet to be anythin' battle related"

"Wait, listen!" Bert instructed.

After a few more moments of silence they finally recognised the sound. Singing.

"They're singing a hymn!" Another soldier pointed out.

"Silent night" Bert breathed as he too gazed over the parapet.

It was dark out, but he could see the faint glow of lamps coming from the German trench as the familiar tune washed over him like a wave.

" _Stille Nacht, heilige nacht  
Alles schlaft, einsam wacht,  
Nur das traute, hochheilige Paar.  
Holder Knabe in lockigen Harr.  
Schlaf in himmlicher Ruh.  
Schlaf in himmlicher Ruh."_

Then the land fell silent again. The hymn was the link between these two sides, the two sides that had been told that they should hate each other, but in that moment, they realised that there was no such hatred; they were all the same, men who were following orders, men who wanted to go home and back to their families. Men who were suffering. Yet the universal feelings of peace and love could bring any conflict to a standstill…even if it were only for a few minutes.

There were a few more moments of silence and the British soldiers began to shift uneasily, wondering if the sentiment of the German side had ended, but they eventually heard a timid voice call out,

"Fröhliche Weihnachten!"

"What did 'e say?" questioned an older solider – who had not moved from his seat.

"Merry Christmas" Bert informed him.

"You know German, Bert?"

Bert shrugged. Mary could speak German and she had taught him some over the years.

"Only a little bit"

He received one or two odd glances from his fellow soldiers, but he gave to further reasoning.

"Shout it back, Bert!" The young boy instructed.

Bert obeyed and he shouted back the phrase in a slightly questionable German accent. A reply came quickly.

"Wir wollen nicht kampfen!"

"What was that?" a few of the soldiers seemed to say in unison.

Bert was silent for a few moments, touched by the words of the opposing side.

"They…they don't want t' fight"

"You mean Jerry wants the night off?"

"They don't wanna fight 'cos it's Christmas" Bert explained in a low voice.

The British trench fell silent again. Then timidly and in a voice that was barely audible, Bert began to sing the first hymn that he could think of,

" _O little town of Bethlehem  
How still we see thee lie  
Above thy deep and dreamless sleep  
The silent stars go by  
Yet in thy dark streets shineth  
The everlasting Light  
The hopes and fears of all the years  
Are met in thee tonight"_

The rest of the soldiers began to join and their tender voices filled the void between the two trenches.

" _For Christ is born of Mary  
And gathered all above  
While mortals sleep, the angels keep  
Their watch of wondering love  
O morning stars together  
Proclaim the holy birth  
And praises sing to God the King  
And Peace to men on earth"_

They finished they song early as a gentle applause came from the German side.

"Very gut, Tommy!" a thick German accent called.

It was then that Bert saw movement across the void between the two trenches, like a group of figures holding lanterns with shaky hands.

"'old on a minute…they're comin' over 'ere" Bert said warily.

"Here?" The oldest soldier exclaimed as they all peaked over the parapet.

"Yeah, 'ole bunch of 'em" Bert confirmed.

"What should we do?"

"They've got their hands raised" a young soldier noted.

"Remember they said they didn't wanna fight" another reminded.

"Yeah, but do you believe them?" grumbled yet another.

The murmured conversation of confusion continued until Bert decided to stand up – putting him in full view of the approaching Germans. He could hear his thundering pulse and swallowed the lump in his throat, but bravely stepped away from the trench; to his surprise, a couple of the other British soldiers began to trail nervously behind him. Each step made his knees feel weaker, but he didn't stop in his travels – although he wasn't entirely sure what had possessed him to do this. Perhaps hope? His remain faith in humanity? Bert took a brief moment to look back and through the cloak of midnight, he could see that all of the English soldiers had left the trench and were slowly making their way across the battlefield. The same seemed to be true of the German side.

The two sides eventually stood face-to-face and a thick, awkward silence hung over them – like a suffocating cloak - as they were clueless on what they should expect…until a German soldier extended his hand to Bert.

"Merry Christmas" he said in his thick accent.

Bert took his hand and shook it with a warm smile. In that moment, there was no such thing as war.

"Merry Christmas"

 **0oooooooooooooooo0**

 **1** **st** **January, 1918:**

 _My dearest Mary,_

 _Happy new year, sweetheart._

 _My hopes for this being the final year of the war are still alive and I think that having such hope – rational or not - is the one thing that keeps me going each day. However, I'm not sure if anyone else around here shares my enthusiasm. The older men seem too wise and the youngsters seem too broken…I think I'm the only one with any sort of drive left – but that too, I fear, is beginning to fade._

 _I'm glad to hear that you managed to have a pleasant Christmas and I'm glad that Jane and Michael still managed to share some laughter with their mother…I hate that they've had to be without their father for so long. Those kids and Mrs Banks deserve better – so does Mr Banks, for that matter. And so do you Mary. You don't deserve such hurt in your life, after all that you've given to this world, I had always hoped that it would give you something in return._

 _Please keep writing to me, sweetheart, even if there is nothing to tell. I hope to be home soon._

 _All my love,  
Bert._

 **7** **th** **January, 1918:**

 _My darling Bert,_

 _I wish there was something I could do to keep the spirits up, but this war has drained the life out of our beloved country and the men that have sacrificed so much to protect it. It just isn't fair. I hope with all my heart that your fighting spirit can last until the end of the war – and I hope that the end is not far away. Bert, my dear, you are the strongest and bravest man I have ever known and I know that you can get through this. I believe in you._

 _The world did give me something in return, Bert, it gave me you._

 _Stay safe, my dear._

 _With love,  
Mary._

 **0ooooooooooooooooo0**

 **14** **th** **March, 1918:**

 _Mary, my love,_

 _I don't I can go on much longer. I have been in France for almost two years and I just can't take it anymore. I can't stand the way I have to watch my fellow soldiers die – the way I watch their limp and lifeless bodies get piled up and wheeled away like they're nothing more than meaningless objects – they used to be people, Mary, people who had fears, feelings and loved ones back home._

 _Some of them aren't even men, they're boys! Some as young as fourteen – that's younger than Michael! Can you imagine if Michael were out Here? A gun on his back, a helmet on his head and the weight of a merciless war on his shoulders. He wouldn't last. No one them do. The boys are the first ones to go – how many mothers have woken up one morning only to be told that their young sons are dead?!_

 _To see the lifeless glaze in their eyes – it's haunting! All I can think about is what if that had been Michael? Because it could've been! This war had made our country so desperate that boys had to lie about their age and volunteer to keep England on its feet while the officers in headquarters do everything they can to stay off theirs!_

 _We were once told that this would be a harmless – perhaps even fun – adventure that would be over by the Christmas of 1914 and would make us all heroes. Well look at us now!_

 _This place is nothing but black, not just on the surface but in spirit. I don't even think I know what we're fighting for anymore – it doesn't even seem to matter. Our nation has become drunk with patriotism that all people care about are beating 'those damn Germans' – but if we took the time to stop and think we'd realise the whole thing is futile. We have been fighting for so long that we're no longer actually fighting for anything. It's nothing more than a petty game between rich officers who just want to play at soldiers. They don't think about us. They don't think about the endless torture of having to hear rapid gunfire, shell explosions or even the firing from a tank. The fact that we have to live in mud and disease or that our existence is to kill or be killed. That we have to watch our friends and comrades die whilst we wonder if we're even going to last until tomorrow. I can't think of a single good thing this war has done – for anybody!_

 _I don't think I can face another day of this. I've seen so much and I'd give anything to un-see it. The way a man will flail and spasm as he inhales too much gas. The way an attack from the opposing side can last for days. They way hundreds of men can begin an attack and only ten will return. The way a man can kill without remorse. The way that war takes and destroys so many lives without care._

 _I just want to go home. I think that's all it truly comes down to. I can't stand it in this cruel world of conflict. I want to be back home – back in London. I want to be back with you._

 _I love you so much._

 _Yours always,  
Bert._

Bert knew that a letter with such criticisms would be fully censored – perhaps even disposed of; so, he ripped it into several pieces and subtly placed it into the small firepit they kept in the trench. And sure enough, when no one was looking, the pieces floated away into the sky. When Bert was sure that the letter was on its way to London, he made his way into his dugout, buried his head in his hands and cried.

 ****!****

 **A/N: So, as you can see I tried something a bit different with Bert, I hope it's not too out of character, but at the end of the day, this war was horrific so I think it's a realistic approach to take - and I have a good idea of how it will all play out in the next chapter so that should be up within the next few days!**

 **Oh, and sorry if my German was terrible! XD**

 **Anyway, I really hope you enjoyed this chapter and I'd love to hear your feedback! x**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: I'm so sorry that this chapter has taken a bit long, I've been quite bust these last few days and I did have a bit of writers block...BUT, I finally got through this chapter and I also have plenty of ideas for the next chapter, so that should be up soon too!**

 **The song "When this lousy war is over" is taken from the musical "Oh, what a lovely war" - I studied this play a few years ago and was also in a production of it - it's a fantastic musical and has been a big inspiration for me when writing this story! (Especially when writing the Christmas scene in the last chapter)**

 **Anyway, I really hope you enjoy this chapter!**

 **Keep The Home Fires Burning  
Chapter Six**

 **20** **th** **March, 1918:**

 _My darling Bert,_

 _I beg you to stay strong. I can't begin to fathom how hard it is for you and what horrors you must have seen, but I do know how strong you are, Bert; in all my years of knowing you I've never seen you have a bad day and I've never seen you give up. I know the problems you have faced in London will never, ever compare to this war, but I know that your spirit is strong enough, you have always demonstrated such a powerful sense or resilience and perseverance – that's something I have always admired about you. I beg of you, Bert, please don't let that spark within you die, for my sake, but most importantly, yours._

 _I know that the war is heartless, but you and I both know that there is always love in this world, sometimes it just gets a bit lost beneath the surface, but someone always cares and one day they will show it. In fact, sometimes I truly believe that everyone cares deep down. One day, someone within this war will show that they care and then it will all be over. Think about what happened on Christmas, Bert, you told me yourself that you knew that those German soldiers didn't want to fight you and I believe that; like you they have just been following orders, if they had their way this whole thing would've been over years ago. They care, Bert. Someone always cares and once one person begins to care, everyone else will soon follow in their footsteps. It's unfortunate that we have to wait for such compassion from some people, I too wish people would be more in touch with their empathy and generosity – but it will come eventually, it always does._

 _Bert, I know that you will be home soon, this war will not go on forever; and I know that if you stay strong you can make it through this. Soon you will be back in London and we can begin to put this horrendous war behind us – soon it will all seem like just a bad dream; and the world will learn and move forward._

 _I'll always be here waiting for you, Bert. I love you._

 _Always,  
Mary. _

**4** **th** **April, 1918:**

Thankfully, Bert never completely lost hope, he suspected that his letter of desperation to Mary was a moment of madness – or, at least that's what he'd hoped. Of course, life in the trenches was still anything but easy. Bert would often wake and find himself in cold sweats with his limbs shaking, the frontline had taken its toll on him and it was beginning to show. But it was the same for everyone else. Every single soldier in that trench was pale with a gaze that seemed almost lifeless – many had lost weight and there seemed to be less and less of them each day. But they powered through each day, they had no choice – not unless they wanted to be shot…although, it seemed as if a bullet would be their demise anyway, so a few wondered if it even mattered anymore.

Still, the days rolled on – sometimes at a pace so agonisingly slow that they felt like they were losing their minds, but nonetheless, time kept moving forward and they were somewhat grateful that they were still moving with it.

Bert found that the onslaught of German fire and whizzbangs eventually became white noise again; he even had times where he would snap away from a deep thought and wonder if those explosions had always been going off. In fact, that seemed to be the only sound they ever heard. But the soldiers still found the time to talk to one another, it was the only real coping mechanism they had – aside from the exchange of letters between their loved ones. They all had the same common ground of being stuck in the middle of this war, so talking became easier – their empathy at its strongest.

There had even been a time where Samuel – the only soldier in Bert's trench that was under twenty had sung one evening. He kept his voice quiet – saving his song only for those in the British trench, but it seemed to almost sooth them with optimism – something many had them hadn't felt for so long.

 _"When this lousy war is over,  
No more soldiering for me.  
When I get my civvy clothes on,  
Oh, how happy I shall be._

No more church parades on Sunday,  
No more putting in for leave.  
I shall kiss the Sargent major,  
How I'll miss him, how he'll grieve"

 _My darling Mary,_

 _Sometimes there seems to be optimism within the trench, it never lasts long, but it hasn't died completely. We spend most of our days firing shells or talking quietly to each other – the mood here is often low, but every now and then there is a certain spark, it's a spark that we can all feel and boy does it feel good! Sometimes, when we've lost all hope, we find something that reminds us that all is not lost, it's not a powerful sensation – far from it…it's actually quite weak – but it's enough to remind us that there's always hope. I beg that it stays. I beg that our efforts are met with freedom._

 _How are things back in London? And how are the Banks family doing? What about Jane and Michael? I expect their both starting to think more about their futures now? – Or whatever future they might have if this war doesn't end soon. Has Jane been pushed into finding a suitor? I don't really believe in the idea myself, but I know that's how things tend to work in the upper-class families – not that I'm making any hard judgements, of course. But if Jane's happy, then I'll be happy too._

 _I hope you are well too, Mary – you seem to talk about yourself less and less in your letters, it worries me slightly. As silly as it may sound, I love hearing about your days with the Banks family; but most importantly, I love knowing that you're okay._

 _Keep the home fires burning, my dear._

 _With love,  
Bert._

 **0ooooooooooooooooo0**

 **14** **th** **May, 1918:**

Mr Banks had been lucky enough to be granted a period of leave and for a few days the Banks family was whole again. Mary had rarely been a jealous person, but she felt her stomach knot with almost unbearable pain when she heard that Mr Banks had been granted such a privilege – not because she didn't want him to have it, but she suspected that he was given such a gift as a result of his prestigious friends and acquaintances…she supposed that in the unfair game of war, who you knew could be more valuable than what you knew.

She stayed in her room on the first day of his visit, mostly because she didn't want to intrude on their valuable time together, but also because she didn't know if she'd be able to keep her composure if she saw their reunion. She knew that if she saw them her own heart would break and she knew that her longing for Bert would only become more painful; it would be a torturous reminder of how Bert was still stuck in France and that they had no way of seeing each other. She was truly happy for the Banks family, but every time she heard their laughter tears would fall almost endlessly from her eyes.

The whole thing was painful beyond words. And Mary couldn't avoid it; she was still their nanny and still had her duties, so when she finally did witness their euphoria, she felt her voice catch in her throat and practically ran into the kitchen to make sure that she didn't cry in front of them. She wasn't about to selfishly ruin their happiness. But she couldn't stand the practically torturous sensations the whole thing gave her – like a knife had been driven straight into her stomach; she wanted Bert back so badly, she wanted to be in his arms and know that he was safe from harm. The Banks family understood how Mary felt, even though no one ever voiced the facts of the matter, but they too keep their distance wherever possible – it was an act of kindness.

One evening, Mary sat alone in her room and looked through some of the letters that Bert had sent to her over the last two years; in particular, his letter that told her about his last Christmas in the trenches. What had happened between the soldiers that night was so heart-warming and Mary often found herself re-reading it if she ever had moments of hopelessness. Mary kept most of Bert's letters in her carpet bag, but some of her favourites, she kept on the table so she could access them easily. Despite the time, London was still light and Mary eventually found herself staring at a blank piece of paper; she needed to write to Bert, but found herself too sombre to think straight. She would feel guilty if she didn't tell Bert about George's period of leave, but she knew that hearing such a thing would hurt him.

As if on cue, a faint knock came from the door to her room.

"Come in" Mary said as she rose from her seat and straightened her posture.

The door opened rather timidly, but eventually revealed the soft expression of Mr Banks. Mary felt her heart sink a little.

"Good evening, Mary Poppins…I do hope I'm not interrupting anything?"

"No, not at all -" her voice was rather weak, "—please come in"

He did so – but stayed near the door. His gaze dropped to the floor.

"Well, I don't want to disturb you or anything, but I thought I should make sure that you're okay"

Mary caught her breath, she hadn't expected him to say that. She cleared her throat.

"Why wouldn't I be?" she asked timidly.

George sighed slightly.

"You have a very strong exterior, Mary Poppins, but I know that you must be hurting; I was able to get a few days leave but Bert is still over in France…"

A few tears threaten to fall as she heard Bert's name.

"…I know it must be extremely hard for you, even if you don't show it" he said softly, "…believe me, Mary Poppins, I wish there was something I could've done…" he trailed off.

Mr Banks was looking at her now, but Mary's gaze had dropped to her shoes – she was afraid that the eye contact would make her crumble.

"I really do appreciate your concern, Mr Banks…" she said each word slowly – making sure that her voice would not crack, "…but you really have no reason to feel apologetic"

"I just wanted to say that if there's anything that any of us can do, please don't hesitate to ask…the last thing we want it to make things any harder for you"

Mary did everything she could to avoid looking at Mr Banks - an uncharacteristic move that he began to pick up on.

"I really do appreciate your concern Mr Banks" she sniffed.

George could hear the crack in her voice and Mary felt a tear slip from her eye, but she brushed it away instantly, she was not prepared to breakdown in front of her employers…not again. Eventually, she swallowed hard before speaking again,

"Please don't let me keep you, Mr Banks…you should be…spending time with you family" she said with some difficulty.

George nodded sombrely – not that Mary could see.

"Look after yourself, Mary Poppins" he told her softly before walking away.

As soon as she heard the door close Mary began to cry without any control or composure, she wanted Bert back so badly; he was the one person she knew she couldn't live without and every day she lived in fear that she would be told of his death. She would wake each morning with a sense of dread – every morning seemed like the morning she would be told that she would never see him again; and with Mr Banks home for a few days, well, it seemed to worsen her pain. She got to see what she and Bert couldn't have, a reunion that would promise his safety for a time and a chance for them to just be close to each other.

Death was something that people tended to place in the far future – far away from their present lives and it never occurs to them that the end could simply be a day away. To many, it seems impossible that one of their early days could be their last; yet Bert and Mary lived in fear of that every day. When Bert would rise he would feel a brief wave of gratitude that he was still alive, but that would soon be followed by a twinge of fear – for that self-same day could also be his last.

When Mary's tears began to slow, she sat now to write her next letter,

 _Darling Bert,_

 _I miss you terribly and hope that you are safe and doing well. I feel so lost without you, darling, I still have so much belief in you, but I find myself more and more terrified with each new day. It's getting harder to control my trepidations. I just wish you were here with me._

 _Mr Banks has been granted a period of leave, so he's back in London for about a week. I'm very pleased for him and it's lovely to see him reunite with his family, but it's just so hard for me to stand by and watch it all happen. When I see how happy they are because they're together again…I just wish that I could have that with you. I know that every single soldier deserves the privilege of leave, but it just makes me so sick when Mr Banks can get it easily and yet you can't!_

 _It really does please me to see the Banks family so happy, but it breaks me at the same time. I wish it were you, Bert, you deserve to be safe and back in London, especially after all you've been through. Of course, I wouldn't wish any ill fate upon Mr Banks – never! I just miss you so much – I know I keep saying it, but it's because I'll never be able to accurately express how much I wish you were here. I wish that I could protect you and fight for you until all the strength had been drained from my body._

 _Even in my world full of magic, you're the one thing I can't live without._

 _I love you, Bert._

 _Yours always,  
Mary._

 **18** **th** **May, 1918:**

 _Mary,_

 _I miss you too, my dear and I would give anything to be back in London…but I will be home soon, I can feel it._

 _I am glad that Mr Banks gets to spend time with his family, children always need their father and a wife needs her husband…but I know it must be so hard for you, having to see the thing you want so desperately but can't have. But, as always, Mary, you have proved that there really isn't a selfish bone in your body because even though you're hurting, you're still so happy for them all. You're truly amazing!_

 _But believe me, Mary, I wish we could have that too, there isn't a single moment where I don't long for you company. I can't live without you either, but soon, we won't have to worry about that. I'm going to come back to you, Mary, I promise you. And I love you._

 _Always,  
Bert._

 **22** **nd** **May, 1918:**

On the day that Mr Banks was due to return to France, Mary decided to stay away from Number Seventeen as much as she could; she wasn't sure if she would be able to live through another goodbye – even if it wasn't her own. Simply seeing the way it would break the Banks family would be enough to make her relive the heartache she felt on the day she said goodbye to Bert. With a heavy heart, Mary decided to take a walk in the park – hoping that it would help her clear her mind; despite the fast approach of summer, it was a cloudy morning as the sun shone sadly onto the bleak streets of London. It was a quiet morning too, less and less people were spending their time of leisure out in the city and Mary couldn't say she blamed them…but there seemed to be a small gathering in the park. As she got closer, Mary realised that the gathering was in fact a crowd of spectators – all of whom were watching three young boys sing at the park gates. They couldn't have been older the sixteen and Mary was suddenly overcome by a feeling of sickness as she remembered that there were boys younger than them on the frontline. Boys like Michael Banks. She felt her heart melt through bittersweet emotions as the practically angelic voices of the boys filled the park; they seemed to weave a sense of brilliance into the air, as if their melody had the power to heal and to sooth.

 _"There's a long, long trail a-winding  
Into the land of my dreams,  
Where the nightingales are singing  
And a white moon beams.  
There's a long, long night of waiting  
Until my dreams all come true;  
Till the day when I'll be going down  
That long, long trail with you.  
All night long I hear you calling,  
Calling sweet and low;  
Seem to hear your footsteps falling,  
Ev'ry where I go.  
Tho' the road between us stretches  
Many a weary mile,  
I forget that you're not with me yet  
When I think I see you smile."_

Mary sighed as they continued to sing – she let their smooth tones wash over her like a warm wave and, like many others, placed a few coins in the cap that lay by their feet. One of the boys nodded at her in appreciation and Mary gaze him a loving gaze that seemed to say "Thank you". As their song finally ended, Mary proceeded to walk through the park – it looked sombre beneath the clouds, like the rest of London, it too had lost its vibrancy. She was overly saddened by this, perhaps because in her heart this had always been Bert's park – and always would be. This is where she would almost always find him – drawing, performing or simply strolling…if Bert wasn't a chimney sweep that day, then you could bet your life on him being in the park. It was where they had first met – that seemed like a lifetime ago. Their time together had made the years fly by, but their time apart during the war had made two simple years feel like decades; Mary hated the fact that she never truly realised just how much she needed him. Of course, she appreciated that Bert was the light of her life, even before the war began she treasured him dearly, but she wondered if she ever truly realised just how much she needed him? She hoped that deep down she did and that the war had just helped to bring those emotions to the surface.

This park held so many of their memories – most of which involved them jumping into his pavement pictures…with or without her charges present.

 _There was the time when he had somehow managed to convince her to dance in the rain with him, she wasn't quite sure why she'd agreed to it, but as he held her close under the downpour she concluded that she'd never felt so alive._

The park was also the very first place she'd said goodbye to him…

 _She had been with a more difficult family for around two months, until one Monday morning when the wind finally beckoned her away from them. It was so hard for her to explain to Bert why she followed the wind, he hadn't understood her reasoning, but he didn't need to, because on that day Bert promised that he'd wait for her – and that was a promise that he made every time she left him. It was also a promise that he'd never broken. He didn't pretend to understand why she did what she did, all he knew was that he cared for her and that was all either of them needed to know._

Their most peculiar memory from the park was perhaps the time they almost kissed one Christmas eve…

 _Mary had agreed to spend the day with him and as night had fallen the two of them walked through the snow-covered park – their arms entwined as they did so. That winter night was perfection, the snow was fresh and untouched, the stars glistened in accompaniment to the full moon and they had the entire park to themselves. Of course, moments later, Mary had slipped on the icy path and went flying towards the ground, luckily, she was caught by Bert's strong arms and he held her in a dip – the way a man would dip a dance partner if they were performing a more fiery waltz. Their eyes met beneath the moonlight and time seemed to no longer exist. Mary remembered how her heart began to beat out of her chest as Bert looked at her with such longing and adoration. They could feel the tension between them and they both knew what they were seconds away from doing._

" _Bert…" Mary breathed._

" _Yeah?" he replied – his gaze still firmly locked with hers._

" _Do stand me back up" her voice was polite, but there was also a hint of regret in what she said._

 _But Bert was a gentleman and did exactly as he was told, and once Mary was back on her feet, they continued on their journey._

Mary sighed from her nostalgia. She'd do anything to have him back in his park.

 **0ooooooooooooooo0**

 **15** **th** **July, 1918:**

They didn't sing in the trenches. Not anymore. Not after so many years of pointless fighting. Not when blood stained the soldier's hands. When guns and shells weren't being fired they sat in melancholy silence, some wrote their letters to their loved ones whilst others just stared down into the dirt – their minds clinging desperately to their last shred of happiness. They were shells of the men they once were and they were living in a world of broken happy ever afters.

 _My dearest Mary,_

 _The trenches are quieter now, the boys don't sing like they used to…I think we're all worn out and are just desperately waiting for the end. There's really not much that I can tell you, Mary – or at least nothing that won't seem depressing. Hopefully you're beginning to understand why I prefer to hear about your life than to tell you about mine._

 _How are thing with the Banks family? Your last letter made it sound as if their spirits were beginning to lift again after Mr Banks went back to France. I hope that's the case, I hate to think that you could all be suffering. Still, I'm glad that the twins are too young to fully understand it, hopefully they'll grow up with no memory of this terrible war – it's not the sort of thing they should have to remember…and hopefully none of us will ever have to relive it. Still, I know there's one person left in this world that can make the sun shine bright for us, you, Mary. You help me to remember that there will always be light – even in the darkest of times._

 _I miss you, my dear._

 _Always,  
Bert._

 **23** **rd** **July, 1918:**

 _Dearest Bert,_

 _Don't give up hope, I know that you can make it through this; in all my life, I've never anyone as wonderful and positive as you…sometimes I still wonder if you even have bad days. You're a true diamond, Bert._

 _The Banks family are indeed getting better, it was terribly hard for them to watch Mr Banks leave for a second time, but they treasured the short time they had with him whilst he was on leave and I know that they wouldn't have given that up for anything in the world. In any case, I don't think they're suffering, or things are at least easier…but it's in no way easy – not for any of us. Even if the war were to end tomorrow, I feel it could be years before things become truly easy again…and I fear some will never be free from the pain they've suffered over these last few years._

 _Keep your chin up, darling – remember, you're a fighter._

 _I miss you too._

 _Mary._

 **0ooooooooooooooo0**

 **14** **th** **September, 1918:**

"You miss him, don't you?" Michael asked – almost stupidly – as he peered into the nanny's room.

Mary had been sat on the edge of her bed for what seemed like hours, her mind had been deep in thought, but had snapped back to reality once she heard Michael's voice. Her cheeks began to turn a slight shade of pink.

"Of course I miss him, Michael" she said as if it were obvious – which it was.

Michael stepped timidly into the room – his hands laced together nervously.

"No…I mean…you _really_ miss him, don't you…more than you would simply miss a friend"

Mary raised her eyebrow at him.

"You love him, don't you?" he finally asked – and was quite certain he was going to have something thrown at him.

"That's quite a personal question, Michael" Mary replied quietly.

"You answered Jane's questions"

Mary's eyes widened and she almost cursed herself for being so open with the girl. She almost smiled at the ridiculousness of it all.

"May I ask you something, Michael?"

The boy nodded slowly.

"If you're aware of what Jane and I discussed so long ago, why did you feel the need to come here and ask me the very same question?"

"I don't know…" he admitted.

"Clarification, perhaps?"

"Maybe"

"I don't think you're as open as your sister" Mary commented harmlessly.

"I don't think I am either…but I don't need to be open all the time, do I Mary Poppins?"

She chuckled slightly.

"No, Michael, you don't…sometimes it can backfire" she quipped.

There were a few moments of silence.

"Do you…do you think father and Bert will be okay?"

Mary pondered this for a few moments. For the past two years she and Bert had always spoke about the day he would come home – but the war had so painfully reminded them that tomorrow wasn't promised to anybody. Mary flashed him an almost sad smile.

"I hope so, Michael…I really hope so"

She rose to her feet and wrapped her arms around the boy that was nearly the same height as her.

"They're both trying their very best…" she said softly, "…so all we can do is trust them and to never let our spirits die"

"Do you ever lose hope, Mary Poppins"

"Everyone does at some point"

"What do you do when it happens to you?"

"I do whatever it takes to get it back…whether it's a simple walk in the park to remind myself of happier times or if it's sitting alone for hours until I finally remind myself that anything can happen…we're all different, but the one thing we can all share is hope"

Mary made sure to keep embracing Michael until he decided to let go, she made sure to always be the last one to let go, for you never know how much someone might need to be held.

"You've grown into such a wonderful young man, Michael…and I'm so proud of you" she whispered when he finally stepped out of her arms and for the first time in months he wore a genuine smile.

 **0ooooooooooooooo0**

 **8** **th** **November, 1918:**

"Mary Poppins? Are you in here?" Jane asked softly as she shyly stepped into the nanny's room with her brother.

Their expressions were washed over with confusion when they found the room empty.

"Where could she be? I haven't seen her for hours…" Michael commented, "…you don't think she—"

"No, she's still here, look all of here belongings are still in here…besides, she wouldn't leave – not whilst the war is still going on"

"But then, where is she? I saw her this morning but only briefly" Michael sighed.

"Maybe she had to run some errands? Did you hear her say anything like that?"

"No, nothing…I saw her take a letter from the postman and then she came back up here…that was hours ago"

Jane looked at her brother with fearful eyes.

"Oh, Michael, you don't think…?"

"Think what?"

"Do you think there was something bad in the letter she received?"

A heavy silence fell over them as they began to panic. _Bert._

Michael took another step into the room as he spotted the pile of papers on the table.

"Don't you dare, Michael" Jane warned as she saw him eyeing the documents.

"I'm just going to have a look"

"Don't! It's rude! They're Mary Poppins' private letters"

"Jane, what if something _has_ happened to Bert?...I'm just going to see if I can find anything!

Jane could feel the two sides of her morality fighting it out – she was so torn. Whilst she knew this was wrong, there was a heavy ache in her heart that worsened every time she thought about the possibility of Bert being hurt again…so she said nothing and stood by her brother's side as he picked up one of the letters.

"It's dated the 25th of December 1916"

"That long ago?"

"I think she keeps her favourites close by" Michael suggested.

"Why?"

"So her spirits don't die…"

They skimmed over the letter,

'… _I cannot bear the thought of you being alone. Know that I am thinking of you with each passing moment. I wish I could be by your side, to hold you and to make you feel safe and warm._

 _I miss you more and more each day, but I will come home to you soon – I'm going to make sure of it._

 _Merry Christmas, Mary. I love you._

 _Yours forever,  
Bert.'_

"Do you…do you think that was the first time he told her?" Jane squeaked. Michael simply nodded as he picked up the next letter.

"1st January 1917" Michael announced, then after skimming the document he said, "he wrote her a poem"

' _A passing touch that never quite meets,  
Two gentle hands longing  
to meet.  
A loving gaze the will never be seen,  
Adoring eyes that wonder  
what could have been._

 _A young man waits for his dreams to come true,  
When one day his love will see him and  
remind him why his love grew.  
Such hope that she might one day take his hand,  
To give him a smile and make him feel  
oh, so grand._

 _Whilst separated they do not wither,  
For nothing could destroy his love for her  
even when they're not together.  
There are so many things he wishes to say, but he sticks to the few,  
For the one thing he wants her to know is:  
"I love you"'_

"I had no idea things were so strong between them…" Jane sighed.

"She kept it well hidden"

"Why?"

"For us" Michael said painfully.

"Look at this one, Michael" Jane said almost sombrely as she picked up another letter.

"When was it written?"

"Valentine's day…" she gulped.

' _To my love,_

 _Happy Valentine's day, Mary._

 _There are no words strong enough to describe how much I miss you. During the cold nights, I wish for nothing more than to have you in my arms, just so that I can be near you and so I can keep you warm. I wish that I was back in London with you. I would love nothing more than to hold you close to me and to feel your soft lips on mine. I wish I could say I love you in person, to be able to look into your eyes and embrace you as I say it._

 _I wish I was poetic enough to tell you how much I care for you, all I can really say is that I love you with my whole heart and I'm going to make sure that I return home so I can say it to you – and seal my words with a kiss. I wish I could've told you all of this before the war started._

 _I miss you terribly, Mary, but I just know that'll I'll be home soon._

 _All my love,  
Bert.'_

Jane swore she felt tears welling in her eyes.

"Oh, Michael, I just feel so terrible…she's being going through so much with Bert and…and we just had no idea…this must have been so painful for her…"

"This one's from when he was in hospital" Michael told her quietly.

' _It all comes down to one thing, Mary: I love you. I love you with all my heart and I'll never stop – and one day I'll be able to say it to you in person, just you wait. My life is meaningless without you, Mary Poppins – you're all I have left in this world.'_

A tear slipped from Jane's eye.

"This is just too painful…I don't think I can read any more!" she sniffed.

Michael painfully skimmed through more of the letters – his guilt rising and heart aching with each one. He read several "I love you"s and "I miss you"s and began to see just how strong the love between Mary and Bert was – and how he'd had no idea that they had been suffering so much over the last two years. He noticed that the final letter of the pile was dated from a few months ago and so he stepped away from the desk.

"Did you find anything?" Jane asked reluctantly.

"No, the last letter was dated from a few months ago…wait, what's that?" he asked – pointing towards the bed. There lay yet another open letter.

Michael moved towards it with reluctant steps.

"When was it written?"

Michael looked at his sister – his eyes flashing with worry.

"Only a couple of days ago"

They both sighed and let their eyes run over what Bert had written…that was, until their vision became too clouded from threatening tears.

"Oh, Michael…" Jane whimpered, "…this is just heart-breaking!"

He didn't respond for a while – but his hand trembled ever so slightly.

"Do…do you think he's okay?" he croaked.

"What are you two doing in here?" a solid voice questioned from the doorway.

They whipped their heads around to see Mary looking at them with a plain expression – that intimidated them more than any scowl could, for now she was completely unreadable. Was she angry? Upset? Was she going to shout at them? Speak to them coldly? Both the children gulped.

"We were looking for you, Mary Poppins" Jane said quietly.

"Hmmm, well, as you know, it's most rude to go into someone's room without their permission, especially when their personal property is present" her tone was also unreadable, it was almost stoic.

"We didn't mean any harm, Mary Poppins" Michael said as he set the letter back down on the bed.

"I would very much appreciate it if you would kindly give me some privacy" she told them.

Jane began to apologise,

"Try and understand, Mary Poppins, we only -"

"Please" Mary added and this time they all heard her voice begin to crack.

Jane and Michael left quickly and without another word – when the door finally closed behind them Mary sank onto the bed and cried fiercely into her hands. She did her very best to muffle her sobs, but the pain she felt was to intense and so torturous that she wasn't sure if she could. Her heart had truly shattered. She was broken now…perhaps beyond repair. For some unknown reason, she picked up the letter she had received that morning – the one that Jane and Michael had just read – and let her eyes fall over the words once more…

 _To my love,_

 _Mary, we're going over the top soon, I'm not sure when, it could be in a few days or even a few hours, so I'm writing this now because there is just so much I want to say to you._

 _I really don't know what's going to happen to me this time, Mary, we have carried out many operations like this before, but our hearts and faith are not in this one…even the sergeant himself has described it as suicide; but you know as well as I do that we have no choice but to obey our orders._ _I won't lie to you, my dear, I am utterly petrified – I don't even think that describes it fully._

 _There was a time when the young boys around here were filled with such confidence, truly believing that they would never be killed or harmed, they were as innocent as spring lambs…but all lambs are lead to slaughter by the very hand that raised them. That's all we've ever been to those higher ups, disposable lambs…_

 _I never, ever wanted to say this to you, sweetheart, but I fear that this is the end of the road for me; I fought my way here with my head held as high as possible…but I don't think there is any time left for me. If I shall fall in battle, then at least I know I died fighting for the best possible cause, as unfair as this war may have been, I still did my bit to protect my country and to protect you. Perhaps it is the most noble way for a man to go?_

 _My only regret is that we never had more time together, I know I said that I wouldn't have our relationship playout any other way, but if I could turn back the clock I would make sure to tell you how I really felt long before this dreadful war, just so I could know what it feels like to hold you in my arms and truly call you mine. To have had a life with you before being so unfairly torn away from it. I do wish it could've been different, but please know that I'm just so glad we finally admitted how we felt…my regrets would've been doubled if we did not. At least if I don't come back, I'll die knowing that you know that I love you._

 _I really do love you, Mary and I wish I could tell you how much. The first day I met you I was so captivated by you, you were beautiful, mysterious but most of all kind – I think I fell for you that very day, but as you let me get close to you, as you trusted me and as our friendship grew stronger, I began to realise just how incredible you really are. I fell in love you more and more with each passing day and I can safely say now that I love you with everything I have and know that I will never ever stop loving you; if you keep a piece of me in your heart or mind, then I'll always be here. If I die, I shall die loving you and only you._

 _Please know that the happiest days of my life have been spent in you company and the beautiful friendship that developed between us over the years is something I will treasure until my very last breath. I may never have gotten the chance to show just how much I truly love you, but you allowed me to understand just what love is…I realise now that there is one good thing that's come of this war, it has allowed me to realise just how much I love you and that I've loved you for so very long. There is no force in this natural world that could ever stop me from feeling this way._

 _You have always been the light of my life, Mary, the one person I know that I could always count on, even if you weren't always around, I knew that if I truly needed you, then you would be back by my side without a second thought. You are the most amazing person on the face of the Earth, Mary and I never, ever want you to forget that._

 _When this war is over I want you to go on to live a wonderful and fulfilling life. Keep fixing families and bringing loved ones back together, make a man very happy when you become his wife and become a mother to some beautiful children. Give your future family all the love you have…I know you have so much to give. I want you to go on a have a happy life, my dear, it's the very least you deserve._

 _My dearest, darling, Mary, if I do leave you then I am truly sorry, but you are the love of my life. If there is a way for us to meet after death then I will be there waiting, I would wait an eternity for you, Mary Poppins. If not, then know that I will always be with you in some way._

 _So, I'll say it one final time, I love you. I love you with my heart and soul – with everything I have and that will never, ever change._

 _Yours forever and always,  
Bert._

 ***!***

 **A/N: Please don't hurt me! XD**

 **As always, I would love to hear your thoughts! xx**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Sorry that this has taken a bit longer, but I had a bot of writers block with this chapter...for a while it felt like something was missing...I tried my very best to improve it so I really hope you enjoy it.**

 **Oh, and this is NOT the last chapter...however the next one will be - it'll be a sort of epilogue.**

 **Also, I used another song from "Oh, what a lovely war" in this chapter - it was one of my favourites that I had to sing.**

 **Anyway, I really hope you enjoy this chapter!**

 **Keep The Home Fires Burning  
Chapter Seven**

 **11** **th** **November, 1918 – Armistice Day:**

 **LONDON:**

After four horrendous and gruelling years, the war was finally over. It had been announced that morning and the world was finally free from the its shackles. London seemed to have regained its colour and its life, the city was overflowing with the celebrations of the citizens, those who had survived life in the home front, those who would have their loved ones return to them, those who wanted to cherish their new-found freedom. Men and women leapt from busses and danced carelessly in the streets – their faces graced with smiles that were woven from sheer brilliance. There was cheering, there was singing, there was whistling and there was crying – they almost couldn't believe that there was no more war, that no more men would suffer at the hands of the pointless cause.

Hundreds of women spilled out from the munitions factories and twirled amongst the streets – their eyes locked with the endless sky as they revelled in their future's own freedom; they were joined in the danced by complete strangers, but on that day, no one was a stranger; on that day, the people of London and the people of Britain were all one body, they were all family who had been united by their freedom, by their euphoria and by their love for the Armistice treaty. Never had the world seen such enthusiasm, never had it seen such sheer joy.

Union Jacks billowed in the wind – as if they were dancing to the patriotic songs of the British. They seemed to watch over the sea of people that moved through the capitol – promising protection to every man, woman and child that was now safe under the glorious glow of that flag. It was an extraordinary sight. Eventually there was not a single free space in the streets of London, it seemed that absolutely everyone was celebrating in the city that day…everyone except Mary Poppins.

She had heard nothing from Bert since his last letter, but she also hadn't heard of his death or injury; so, she was left to her own paranoia as her imagination constantly worked against her. That morning the Banks family had insisted that she join them out on the streets and take part in the festivities, but Mary had politely declined and when Mrs Banks saw the pain in her eyes, she didn't press her. So, Mary sat alone in her room – and that's all she did. Sometimes tears would fall from her eyes and others she would simply stare vacantly – or curl up on top of her bed and hope that it was all just a bad dream. This war had broken her – a lot more than she would ever care to admit – it had been a torturous battle for both her and Bert as they fought for their relationship, their lives and their future.

Now the dreadful war was over, but she still had no idea if she would ever see her Bert again and all she could do was wait. But when you wait with so much love, pain and fear in your heart – time feels like its stopped. Every single minute was more harrowing than the last and Mary just wanted to scream. But most of the time she found herself crying; she wept for Bert and her body ached from his absence. She just wanted to hold him and know that he was home and safe for the rest of his days.

 **FRANCE:**

When the soldiers finally learnt of the Armistice on the eleventh hour everything fell silent – as silent as death itself; it was as if nothing had happened, like there had been no war, like the countryside had sat silently for the past four years. The gunfire stopped and the horizon felt heavy from its emptiness. Not even a single breath could be heard. It was eerie in essence. Unlike the rest of the world, there was no celebration form the trenches, no singing, dancing, whistling…nothing…just utter silence. The end of the war was something that had just happened; perhaps there was an element of disbelief, but the men were too broken to re-ignite their happiness. They had been crushed by this war, they had seen horrors that no man should ever be cursed with – so for them, there was no reason to celebrate. All they could do was stop.

They were different now, they were no longer the men that their families had known, war had changed them, war had soiled them, war had tortured them. They did not feel like heroes who had marched nobly across No Man's Land to defeat the Germans, they did not live the adventure that they were promised; instead they felt worthless, men who had killed simply because they were told to. They had fought for something dirty and that was a weight that would live inside them forever. There only hope, their only goal, was to try and forget.

 **23** **rd** **November, 1918:**

The only time that song seemed to arise from the soldiers was on the ferries home. Boats came to and from England tirelessly – making sure that all the boys got home. But their moods hardly rose at all, they were still haunted by the past four years and in a way, none of it felt real. Some of the men had spent years in those trenches and there was suddenly no more of that; they were being thrown back into normal society just has fast as they'd been snatched away from it. Some were certain that they'd never truly readjust. And they knew that the hardest adjustments would be those of the mind, they knew that they would continue to wake in cold sweats – swearing that they could still hear the terrifying sound of distant shell fire or would remember the man that died from the force of their bayonet. Perhaps some of them would never truly forget?

Still, on at least one occasion, a song was sung as they sailed back to England…

 _'And when they ask us, how dangerous it was,  
Oh, we'll never tell them, no we'll never tell them:  
We spent our pay in some café,  
And fought wild women night and day,  
'Twas the cushiest job we ever had._

 _And when they ask us, and they're certainly going to ask us,  
The reason why we didn't win the Croix de Guerre,  
Oh, we'll never tell them, no we'll never tell them  
There was a front, but damned if we knew where.'_

That song became hugely symbolic for almost every man that survived the war; whilst they may have been broken by what they had to endure, they were determined to keep those horrors far away from their homes. When they returned to their loved ones, their wives, children, mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters…they didn't want them to know that their boys had suffered. They'd never tell of the true horrors of the war. They had fought for freedom, peace and happiness and now that they finally had it, they were determined to maintain it for the rest of their days.

 **LONDON:**

As Mary stood in the dock – with the Banks family by her side – she felt as if she was being crushed be several weights. She tried her best to occupy her mind, but all she could focus on was the tightness of her chest and the way her stomach began to knot with almost excruciating pain. She shivered slightly. Or perhaps it was more of a tremble? She wringed her hands together nervously – trying desperately to calm her pounding heart – but it was all in vain. There had still been no news regarding Bert and so Mary's only choice was to visit the docks every day and cling to whatever shreds of hope she had left and have faith that he would return. But she had no idea how long that could take, there were so many men returning to England that it could take months…

Mary soon found herself gnawing at the inside of her cheek as heavier tension began to creep up her back like intruding hands and as figures began to pour out of the ferry, she felt her head spin – she was afraid that she might fall. The crowd was overwhelming – to the point where she couldn't move from where she stood; she scanned the crowd desperately, but everything seemed to move so fast – like a blur that she simply couldn't focus on. She tried to steady her breathing as she loosened the scarf that lay around her neck, but her eyes remained looking forwards – hoping to focus on a familiar face. Mary said nothing and neither did the Banks family, they just stood in eerie silence – as if their trepidation had closed up their throats entirely.

Several reunions began to unfold in front of them, but they just kept searching – that small shred of hope still very much alive in their hearts. Then, the crowd parted ever so slightly and a familiar face soon emerged – a crocked smile painted on his face.

"George!" Winifred cried and she barrelled into her husband's arms – her children close behind. Mary watched as the family wrapped their arms around each other – creating their own bubble – Mr Banks was home from war; the children had been gifted back their father and they clung to him with everything they had. Mary swallowed hard and subconsciously took a step back – giving the Banks' space, not just for them, but perhaps for herself too. She tried to ignore the ache in her still pounding fact, she swore that she felt her heart shatter and crumble until it was nothing more than dust…god it hurt her so much.

But she let her eyes fall vacantly on the crowd again as the hopeful expression she once wore melted into dismay. The way she stood made it look as if she were carved from stone, her face was flat – the glimmer missing from her eyes – and her entire form had drooped. The whole experience was crushing her as she was forced to watch hundreds of couples run into each other's arms – the very thing she feared she'd never have. But she stayed standing there – ignoring the Banks family somewhat – and managed to cling to her steely determination. She would visit these docks every day until Bert either returned or until she was told of his whereabouts.

She studied each silhouette – each one morphing into the same archaic face and each one adding to her torture. She felt as if it were a hopeless search…but then her eyes fell upon a face that she was sure she had forgotten, a face that she was sure she'd never see again. He emerged from the crowd – a crooked smile painted across his face and a look of adoration in his eyes. It was Bert. He stole Mary's breath away from her as their gazes locked and her mouth hung open ever so slightly; suddenly all of her fears were as weak as paper in the rain and they melted away until they no longer existed. In fact, it seemed as if the rest of the world had melted too, as in this moment, all they could focus on was each other and the miracle of it all.

Without a single thought, Mary went flying towards him and as soon as she felt his arms wrap protectively around her frame everything felt so blissful, so right, so secure…words could not describe their relief or their euphoria. They clung to each other so desperately – as if they might lose the other if they didn't.

"Oh, Bert…" she wept as she felt herself tremble within his embrace.

They could both feel a different ache in their hearts now, it was an ache that alerted them to the end of two horrendous years of fear and separation, an ache that let them know that nothing could break them…an ache that let them know just how much they loved each other. Mary held his face in her hands and Bert couldn't tear his eyes away from her – as if he couldn't believe that she was really there and not some part of an almost forgotten dream. Tears slipped endlessly from their eyes as they revelled in their reunion – something they thought may never happen.

"I've missed you so much!" she added desperately.

"I told you I'd come 'ome safe" he said with a slight smile as a few more tears fell onto his cheeks – crying over the lost time they will never get back, but crying for the many years they still had left.

So, when Bert finally leant down to kiss her, it was tender, sweet and tasted of those very tears. The feeling of their lips together was pure magic and ignited something deep within them, as if all of their love and hurt that had built up over the war was finally released. The kiss was filled with such longing and lingered for what felt like a lifetime.

"Don't ever leave me again" Mary croaked weakly as Bert rested his forehead against hers.

"Never" he replied – and she knew that he meant it.

"I was so scared, Bert…after I read your last letter -" she stopped momentarily to swallow the lump in her throat, "—I thought…I thought that I was going to lose you"

She felt him tighten his hold of her and he stared deep into her eyes.

"I'm so sorry that I put you though that, but I'm 'ere, I'm 'ome now and I'm never gonna leave you again" he whispered,

"But…what happened to you?"

"Later, love, I'll tell you everything, but right now I just wanna enjoy this…we've already 'ad so much time stolen from us…"

Mary laced her hands behind his neck and stared up at him – she felt practically mesmerised by this man that she had so much love for. _Her_ Bert – who was almost taken from her, but was now back home with her. If she could have her own way, she would never leave his embrace ever again. She could've believed that he was the whole reason why her heart continued to beat.

"Mary…I'm really sorry for any pain that my last letter may 'ave caused you, but please know that I didn't write it out of madness…I meant every single word…" he felt his chest fluttering – almost violently, "…I love you, Mary Poppins an' I've been waitin' years to finally say it…you're my 'ole world…"

"I love you too, Bert…" she sniffed, "…I just wish I could've realised it sooner…I wish I could've told you sooner…" she whimpered.

"Shhh, it's okay, Mary, we've got all the time in the world now"

Mary realised then that she truly did love Bert – in an almost scarily loyal way, it was unconditional and as fearful as that made her, she was able to realise its brilliance and the wonder that it held for them both. Over the last two years, whilst Bert was away in the trenches, he never left her mind – and she never left his; they were each other's fuel, the very thing that kept them moving forward. The war had brought so may unknown feelings and realisations up to the surface and they finally realised that they needed each other.

For Mary, Bert was the one constant thing she had in her life and she was lucky enough to know that he was so kind-hearted and so loyal that he would always would be waiting in London for her. Except, over the last two years, she had been doing the waiting and perhaps it provided her with a strong sense of empathy that she needed to finally see the whole picture. The picture that showed just how undying his affections for her were. And as for Bert, well, he had fallen for Mary almost instantly, not love at first sight, no, his love had built over time, strengthened, developed and one day he fell hard for her. She was the element of mystery in his life, he had always wanted his world to be exciting – he would never stay in one job too long and he made sure that his days were never dull; but Mary was the ultimate splash of colour amongst the grey walls of London. They were each other's missing link.

They locked their lips together again and the kiss was so powerful and was made up of all the things they wanted to say but didn't know how; it was the very epitome their relationship, the most accurate way to show the other just how much they cared. At least they could finally look forward to a future.

"I never once stopped believing in you" she told him.

"I know, dear…and you never once left my thoughts…it's what kept me goin'"

"Was it really terrible over there?"

Bert looked at her for a while – sadness filling his eyes – he respected her, but he didn't want to tell her what it was really like…he had already said too much in his letters. He didn't want her to feel guilt or sorrow, he didn't want her to focus on what he'd been through…only on what they were about to go through.

"Don't make me tell you about that" he answered quietly.

"Sorry…"

Bert shook his head.

"Don't apologise…it was so painful, but that pain is beginning to fade now"

They gazed lovingly at each other again – almost completely lost for words.

"Oh, it's so good to have you back…" she said as she buried her face into the crook of his neck, "…I missed you so much and I was so worried…"

"I know…I missed you two, every minute of every day…" he began to smooth his hand up and down her back, "…but now you're 'ere with me an' that's all I ever asked for – I almost can't believe that you're in my arms, it almost feels like a dream"

She smiled warmly at him – a slight blush rising in her cheeks.

"I can assure you that this is all real"

"Good" he said before kissing her forehead lightly, "I don't think I could go on otherwise"

Unbeknownst to them, the Banks family had been watching them with fond – and perhaps surprised – eyes, they admittedly had never expected that they'd one day see Mary Poppins wrapped in a man's loving embrace, or that she'd ever look up at a 'suitor' – so to speak – with such love and adoration; but as they watched this hidden relationship unfold in front of them, they couldn't deny the warmth it gave them – how it filled their hearts with joy to see two people so in love reunite after such a dreadful war. To witness how it never tore them apart – how it perhaps strengthened them. It was clear to them that there were no two people in this world who were as perfect for each other as Bert and Mary.

 **0ooooooooooooooo0**

Mary tucked herself into Bert's side as they walked back to his flat – the chilled November air harsh on their cheeks, but their half-embrace kept them warm and made them feel safe; it made all of the pain they'd felt over the last two years simply melt away, as if it never existed. It used to be a practically harrowing burn in their stomach that would twist day and night, now it was something warm and soothing – like a velvet blanket wrapped lovingly around them.

Still, Mary couldn't help but notice a certain something about Bert's eyes, it wasn't anything too prominent and could be easily missed by someone who didn't know him as well, but Mary could definitely see it. Well, it wasn't as if there was anything to see, because what was there was more of an absence. When their eyes did meet there was still such adoration there, but there was also a sort of silence to his soul – like he was trying both to see and to un-see, to forget and to continue. When his mind was not occupied, it seemed to be in a void, as if his thoughts would be dragged away into some other horizon and only Mary's voice could truly snap him out of it; but even then, the emptiness would still linger there for a few moments.

Mary feared that look of his, feared that her Bert had been broken – that he may only be a shell of the man she once knew; but her trepidations would be soothed when she could also spot the sentiment in his gaze, when he would look at her with such an overwhelming sense of love…she knew that when he gave her that look, that nothing could ever truly kill his spirits – there would always be the Bert Alfred that she knew and loved. She also vowed to also be his extra strength – should he ever need it. She could not anticipate how the war may have changed him, but she cared for him beyond words and she swore that she would do whatever it took to make sure that his future was not filled with pain, for she wanted nothing more than for him to be happy.

When they did walk into his flat, she had considered asking him about what happened after he wrote her his infamous last letter, but as she remember the lost look that sometimes lay in his gaze she decided not to press the issue – she decided never to press him to talk about what he'd seen in the trenches. The last thing she wanted to do was to make him relive any of his living nightmares – she wanted to protect him. An almost sad smile played on Bert's lips as he stood in his tiny flat and took in the surroundings. He looked briefly at Mary…he was home.

"I'd almost forgotten what this place looked like" he murmured.

"Well, you're home now" she said softly.

"It feels strange" he admitted quietly.

"Strange? How so?"

He gave the smallest of shrugs.

"I guess the change is just so sudden…I've been in the trenches so long…" he swallowed hard, "…I guess it's just gonna take some time to get used to it all…"

Mary placed a supportive hand on his arm and he seemed to relax from her touch.

"You won't face any of this alone, Bert…I'm going to be by your side every step of the way"

He looked down at her – the tenderness returning to his gaze.

"I know, Mary…an' I can't thank you enough"

Bert turned to face her and wrapped his arms – almost tentatively – around her waist, pulling her close to him. Her heart began to flutter again at the feeling of his touch, something that she had longed for years before the war started, but never thought would happen. Bert felt the same, never in his wildest dreams would he have thought that he'd one day have the wondrous Mary Poppins in his arms – yet here she was; and as she snuggled against his chest, everything seemed less bleak. They bathed in the warmth of their embrace – savouring the sense of security it gave them. Mary could feel his heart beating against her and it was a sensation that she found remarkably touching, perhaps because it was such a simple reminder that he was alive? Nonetheless, the slow beating was almost like a lullaby to her – something that gave her such incredible comfort – and so she did all she could to savour it.

"I 'ope you realise that I'm never gonna let go of you ever again" he told her light-heartedly and he felt her giggle against his chest before her eyes finally met his again.

"And I hope you realise that I'm perfectly okay with that" she replied playfully.

He nuzzled his nose against hers – seeking permission to kiss her once more…he felt himself smiling when she tilted her head up to grant his wish. His lips covered hers in a way that felt so intoxicating and they could feel their bodies overflow with a benevolent warmth that filled every single crack. Bert held the kiss and kept it still for a few moments before he began to move his lips ever so slowly against hers, but he seemed more timid than when they had been at the docks – perhaps fearing that since they were no longer caught up in the moment of their reunion, that the passion may have faded; but Mary made it clear that that was simply not the case. She kept moving her lips in time with his – almost as if they had morphed together – and slid her hands up his chest until they were behind his neck. His lips were soft and warm and the kiss deepened slightly as more moments passed and they felt their bodies press against each other. Their kiss became almost feverish as Bert ran his hands up and down her generous curves and each passing second seemed to fuel them with a stronger longing for the other; but they pulled away eventually – knowing that they couldn't take it any further.

But Bert kept her close to him and once again whispered,

"I love you"

She looked deep into his eyes – which no longer seemed to be vacant – and ran a hand down his cheek before whispering back,

"I love you too"

And with those words, that kiss and their loving embrace, they both knew that they were home.

 ****!****

 **A/N: So, there you go! I do hope you enjoyed that and I hope you glad that I didn't kill off Bert - I could never bring myself to do that! didn't want the romance to be too overpowering in this, but I also didn't want it to seem stiff, so, I hope you think I got the balance right.**

 **Like I said, the next chapter will be the final chapter - sad times!**

 **Anyway, thank you for reading, I really hope you enjoyed this chapter and I'd love to hear your thoughts! xxx**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: So, this is it! This is the FINAL CHAPTER! Thank you so much for all the support you've shown me and for all of your lovely reviews - they really make my day and mean so much to me! It makes me so happy that you like my stories and I've really enjoyed writing this one.**

 **Sorry that this chapter took longer, but it's quite different from the rest of the story so I got a bit stuck on it for a while and wanted to make sure that it was done right...hopefully I've done a good job - but I do think that you're going to enjoy it!**

 **So, I really hope you enjoy this!**

 **Keep The Home Fires Burning  
Epilogue**

 **8** **th** **April, 1919:**

Moving on hadn't been the easiest task in the world, but much like London, Mary and Bert began to rebuild themselves. It had been six months since the end of the war, six months since Bert had come home…and although their love for each other seemed endless and unconditional, they too, had to face some challenges. They did mostly revolve around Bert – a fact that often struck him with guilt – almost every night he would toss and turn beneath the covers before sitting bolt upright – his skin drenched with sweat and his entire body trembling. His chest would rise and fall heavily – his heart beating painfully beneath his flesh…he would be overwhelmed with such harrowing fear as his dreams were always haunted by what he had seen in the trenches. He tried all he could to stop the nightmares, but they were beyond his control.

They wore him down and both he and Mary could tell. His eyes would often be graced with dark bags and his skin pale…however, Bert had this inspiring ability to never visibly let his trauma and exhaustion effect his psychological state; even when he looked his worst, he never, ever acted as such. Each new day brought a new smile to his lips and he was the same cheerful Bert that Mary had fallen in love with. Even with London still struggling he was able to make a living by drawing pictures that were as colourful as ever and by singing songs with the sweetest of melodies. He amazed her – truly amazed her.

However, there had been one occasion where things just became too difficult. It had been a Tuesday – more specifically, one of Mary's Tuesdays, the days they always spent together – and they had spent almost the whole day in one of his pavement pictures; but when it started to rain, they had rushed back to his tiny flat to warm up. Mary had stayed there until late in the evening – the night, in fact – simply enjoying being in his embrace. She began to leave and they had parted with a kiss as usual, but just as she reached the door she heard Bert mutter something – almost with embarrassment.

"Please don't go…" it was barely audible.

She whipped her head around to look at him – her eyes wide.

"Pardon?" she stuttered.

Bert stared down at the floor and shuffled uncomfortably.

"No…don't worry about it…" he dismissed.

But Mary walked towards him slowly – her gaze laced with fearful concern – and she placed a supportive hand on his arm, but she didn't force him to look at her.

"No, tell me what's the matter, Bert" she said softly.

He hesitated for a while before sighing.

"I just don't want you t' go…an' I was gonna ask you to stay 'ere with me tonight because…when I'm alone I…" the was just the slightest crack in his voice, "…I 'ave these nightmares an' I just wanna 'ave you there by my side…"

It was all Mary could do to not weep in that very moment.

"Oh, Bert…" she whispered as she hugged him, "Of course I'll stay with you, I'll do anything I can, darling…" she soothed, "…but I will have to leave early in the morning so that the Walton family won't realise I've been gone"

Bert nodded and gave a smile as she brushed her lips against his cheek.

 ***!*  
**

They could both feel their hearts pound as they climbed into Bert's bed that night. They were, of course, only planning to sleep, but this was still such uncharted territory for them; they had spent many evenings cuddled together and had once or twice lay in each other's arms atop the covers of Bert's bed – but this was different, tonight they were actually going to be in the bed and sleeping in it together. Mary blushed ferociously as she appeared in just her nightgown, but her cheeks seemed to turn an even deeper shade of red when she slipped under the blankets and discovered that Bert slept shirtless…but she tried not to let it show. She could see the scar that lay across his right pectoral – the one that had been caused by his first gunshot wound…and the scar that lived on his shoulder…from his second gunshot wound.

Bert had explained everything a couple of days after he came home. Mere days after writing what they had considered to be his 'last letter', Bert had been shot in the shoulder. He had little memory of what happened, but he remembered waking up in some rickety medical tent not far from the frontline – where he had been treated by the nurses. He had been unconscious for a few days and was unable to write – even when he was awake. He had been extremely lucky, the wound healed quickly and the Armistice treaty was signed a few days later.

She didn't regret her decision – no at all – but the way they sat awkwardly in the bed for a few moments did present her with the realisation that she was suddenly out of her depth. But so was Bert.

"You're not uncomfortable are you?...Do y' still wanna do this?" he asked reluctantly.

When she saw him present his own nerves, she seemed to relax. Mary smiled warmly at him – forcing herself to gather all of her inner confidence.

"Of course I do, Bert, I want to do whatever I can to help you…I love you"

"I love you too"

Those words still gave them both such a rush. They kissed lightly before laying back against the pillows – letting night's endless curtain envelope them. For a while everything seemed so still, with nothing but the sounds of their breathing filling the air. Mary's heart was still pounding, but after a while she felt Bert's arm timidly slip around her waist and pull her against him in a warm embrace that instantly caused her to relax. He nuzzled against her neck slightly – and perhaps placed a kiss there too. Mary shuffled back a bit so that she could snuggle as close to him as possible and the steady rise and fall of his chest – accompanied by his beating heart – soon began to pull her into slumber. It may have only been sleeping, but Mary was sure that she'd never felt so wonderfully tranquil. And she hoped – more than anything – that she could be a beacon of safety for Bert.

But as they had both anticipated, Bert sat bolt upright in the middle of the night with a loud gasp; his entire body shifted with heavy trembles, his heart was beating with desperation and his forehead was pebbled with sweat. His breaths were loud and laboured as he desperately tried to calm himself – but he was consumed by chills as the images of his terror lay fresh in his mind. He felt as if several pairs of crooked hands were running their spindly fingers up his chest and back – invading him, making him feel trapped – he could feel the tension build in his mind until he just wanted to scream. But he eventually felt a soft hand come to his shoulder and he looked across at Mary – who wore such a strong expression of concern.

"Did you have another one?" she asked softly.

Bert simply nodded his head as he felt a lump form in his throat, but as the visions continued to play out in his mind, he simply cried. The tears stung his eyes as the dripped down onto his cheeks – they were not gentle either, no, they spilled out like a pained waterfall; Bert squeezed his eyes shut to try and block the flow, but his attempts were met with dismay. He tried his best to muffle the sounds of his sobs too – not wanting to wail – but he couldn't hide the way his lips trembled, the way his eyes were laced with fear, the way the war had broken him.

"I just wanna forget, Mary!" he wept.

It was all Mary could do to not cry too as she pulled him against her chest and held him in a protective embrace – never wanting to let him go. Her heart was crushed as she saw Bert – _her_ Bert, the man who was always happy, the man who always saw the good in life – so utterly broken. He had been crushed by this war and although he could still smile and dance throughout the day like nothing had ever happened, it was at night when his fears would catch up to him. That was when he couldn't escape, that was when he would find himself back in the trenches, facing those haunting sights over and over again with no escape. The night time was proof that even the happiest of men couldn't escape the horrors of war. Bert buried his face into her next and cried against her.

"It was so real…"

"Shhh, it's okay, it's all over now…" she soothed.

She held him tighter as he continued to tremble – almost feverishly.

"I saw their faces again, Mary – just young boys…they'd been caught in a gas attack an' were being dragged away in carts…their faces were so distorted an' deformed…they didn't even look like people anymore, but I knew that they were just boys – boys that 'ad mothers waitin' at 'ome…I could hear their screams again…an' it sounded exactly the same as when I was back in the trenches…I tried to 'elp them…but just like in the frontline…there was nothin' I could do except stand by an' watch it all 'appen…I tired so 'ard to forget…but every night it all comes back an' there's no way for me to escape it…" there was such desperation in his voice and Mary could tell that her darling Bert was hanging on to his last shreds of hope and sanity.

"It's okay, Bert…one day they'll all be gone, one day you won't have to see such things anymore…soon you'll forget it all…but until then, I'm going to be right here to help you, I'm not going to let you suffer and I'm certainly not going to let you go through any of this alone"

There were so many things that Bert wanted to say to her, but he didn't have the strength to speak; instead, he clung to Mary – feeling safe in her embrace – and waited for the tears to stop. And Mary refused to move until she was sure that he had stabilised, until he began to feel safe again. She just kept him close to her and kept soothing him until his tears finally stopped.

 **0oooooooooooooo0  
**

 **22** **nd** **July, 1919:**

It was a gorgeous summer evening as they walked through the park; Mary had her hand securely in the crook of Bert's arm and London was peaceful and seemingly deserted. The sky was like a water colour painting and dazzled the pair with the most beautiful warm oranges, reds and yellows – like pure tranquillity reigned above them for an infinity. London – like so many other cities in the world – was still so damaged from the war, but she was recovering; as was Bert. Of course, things weren't perfect, he would still find himself waking up in cold sweats and panics from his nightmares, but they happened less frequently. However, he was not free of his post-war trauma – not in the slightest, he would still have moments where he would stare vacantly at nothing and would find himself so deep in thought or memory that he would become completely oblivious to the world around him – only focusing on the world his mind was making him see. It could happen at any point, he could be surrounded by people who were talking merrily and then, without warning, Bert would no longer be present in the conversation. It never happened when he was in a private conversation with anyone, but he was deeply concerned at how quickly his thoughts could take a hold of his conscience.

And, of course, that wasn't all. Since he had returned, Bert had become so skittish and jumpy; all it would take was a door being closed too violently or perhaps just a raised voice for Bert to jump and whip his head around in panic…that's all it would take to make his heart pound sporadically. The fear never lasted long, but he had moments where he just felt so stupid, how could he be frightened of a door?! Mary tried countless times to reassure him and explain that he wasn't afraid of the door, he was afraid of his memories and no one could blame him for that, after years of hearing nothing but explosions – knowing that one of those could've killed him at any moment – his fear was more than understandable. He had seen such horrors…even the strongest of people would've been effected.

As they continued to walk through the park, Mary noticed that Bert felt tense, he seemed unfocused – or perhaps even too focused? She gazed up at him and saw that he was looking straight ahead with a rigid gaze…vacant and far away from reality.

"Bert?...Bert?" she had to say it twice before his mind snapped back into the present.

He gave her a crooked smile.

"Yeah?"

"Are you feeling alright? You seem…distant"

He kept smiling as they came to a more secluded area of the park and they were soon sheltered by several grand trees. The sunset poked through them like a curious child.

"I'm fine, Mary" he said softly.

"Are you sure?"

"I promise you, I'm fine" he assured her.

She slid her hand down his arm so that she could entwine her fingers with his own. She gave his hand a slight squeeze and smiled up at him – marvelling in the way the orange sky framed him through a lens of purity.

"'ow are the Ashwell family doin'?" he asked after a few moments of silence.

"Better…but there's still plenty of work to be done"

"They seemed to be'ave themselves yesterday" he noted – recalling the chalk drawing they'd all jumped into.

"I think they were just shy – considering they haven't met you before"

"That may be so, but you can't deny 'ow charmin' I am!" he laughed as he jokingly preened.

"Well, they did seem to thoroughly enjoy your drawing" Mary said with a smile.

"Good! I put a lot of work into that one!..." there was another brief pause, "…is the youngest still causin' trouble at 'ome?"

"Emily? She does still make things a bit hectic, but like her brothers, she's getting better…I think they're behaviour is just a cry for attention…it was so hard for them after they lost their father and I know that their mother is trying, but it's so hard for her…"

Bert squeezed her hand.

"You'll make everythin' right, Mary, you always do"

Bert had expected some kind of playful scolding or sarcastic comment from Mary, but instead he was met with silence and an uncharacteristic slump of her shoulders.

"Mary, everythin' okay?"

She let a few seconds of silence roll by before speaking.

"Sometimes I wonder if I'm destined to always fix other people's lives…"

"What d'ya mean by that?" he asked softly.

"I've been a nanny for years and I really love it, but don't you think it's ironic that I seem to be able to sort our everyone else's life apart from my own?" her voice was mousy – something he'd almost never seen before.

Bert stopped them from walking, stepped in front of her and took both of her hands into his own. He looked at her lovingly – their sapphire eyes meeting intensely.

"That because you, Mary Poppins, are the most kind-'earted an' selfless woman on this earth…I've never met anyone quite like you – someone 'oo cares so much for others, someone 'oo dedicates their life to showing people just 'ow much they care…but one day I'm gonna 'ave to teach you 'ow to care for your own life with the same amount of dedication…" he gave her his trademark grin and Mary felt her insecurities wash away.

He gently ran the backs of his hand down her cheek before speaking again,

"…selfish isn't always a bad word, Mary, charity is important – we both know that – but sometimes we do 'ave to remember to sometimes put ourselves first…everyone in this world deserves 'appiness, especially you, Mary an' I'd 'ate to see you miss out because you'd fallen victim to your own generosity"

"Oh, Bert…" she sighed endearingly.

She could see him stiffen slightly – like he had done earlier.

"Listen, Mary, there _was_ a reason why I was so distracted earlier…there's somethin' I wanted to say to you…like I said, you deserve to be 'appy an' I wanna be that gives you your 'appiness…" he stuttered, "…I know that I've said this before, but you've been so special to me since the first day we met, I'll remember that day for as long as I live…I remember thinkin' that I'd never seen anyone more beautiful, I remember thinkin' that your voice sounded like the sweetest of bird songs…an' I remember 'ow you spoke to me with such kindness; you didn't ignore me are grimace at me like so many others, you treated me like person – like an' equal – I think we both knew that it was the start of a beautiful friendship…an' I think that was the day I started to fall for you…I think as time passed I fell for ya bit by bit until one day I found myself utterly enthralled…"

"Bert…" Mary breathed – her eyes beginning to glaze over.

"…I don't think there are words that could possibly tell you just 'ow grateful I am for the years of friendship that we've shared…they were the best times of my life…but I think I'm even more grateful for the fact that you've given me a chance to love you…that you waited for me whilst I was in France…I think I'm the luckiest man in the 'ole world…"

"You say that as if you're not good enough…you mean so much to me, Bert…you're – you're my everything" she squeaked – trying to avoid tears.

"…you're the best thing that's ever 'appened to me…an' you've been makin' the sun shine bright in my life for years now…"

Without saying another word or without letting a single second pass, Bert dropped to one knee, pulled a small black box from inside of his jacket and opened it to reveal a small ring with three small diamonds that glittered under the warm rays of the descending sun.

"Mary Poppins, I love you an' if you'll let me, I'd like to spend the rest of my life showin' you just _'ow_ much…Mary…will you marry me?"

Mary felt a strong flutter build in her stomach before it powered up through her chest and manifested in her heart – which felt as if it had leapt into her throat; her still teary eyes sprang open – which allowed a single droplet to roll down her cheek. Her jaw had dropped slightly too, but she soon brought a dainty hand up to cover it. She could see how much love and fidelity he had in his eyes – which was accompanied by the nervous smile he wore as he gazed up at her, awaiting her answer. But Mary didn't even have to think about it and a beaming smile spread across her expression as another lone tear fell from her eye. She began to nod her head slowly – still quite amazed by what was happening.

"Yes" she whispered – she didn't really know how to react, but she knew that there was only one answer.

Bert beamed up at her – wearing a smile bigger than either of them had ever known. He sprang to his feet, took Mary in his embrace and spun her around as they both giggled with glee. When Bert finally put her down he gave her a kiss filled with so much passion and longing that rendered them breathless when they eventually parted. They gazed at each other lovingly – their smiles still spreading from ear to ear.

"I love you, Mary" he whispered.

"I love you too"

"You've just made me the 'appiest person in the 'ole world!"

"I assure you the feeling is mutual!"

Bert eventually slid the ring onto Mary's finger – taking his time as he did so, he wanted to cherish the moment and revel in the fact that Mary Poppins had just agreed to become his wife. It was a big step that they had decided to take and they would've been lying if they said they didn't feel nervous; but at the same time, marriage meant so much to them, they knew that it would be something that they would savour and adore for the rest of their days. They had survived so much over the years and they knew that this union would only make them stronger and it would make their love stronger too – if that were possible. It was going to be a journey full of surprises, but the one thing they knew for certain was that they wanted to spend the rest of their lives together.

 **0ooooooooooooooo0  
**

 **21** **st** **October, 1919:**

Bert was practically breathless as Mary walked down the aisle – guided lovingly by Uncle Albert. He swore his heart was doing somersaults. His mouth fell open with awe as he gazed upon the beautiful gown that she wore – it was a perfectly put together array of dazzling white fabric and intricate lace patterns that made her look angelic as they clung to her bare arms and added elegant layers to the slightly puffy bottom half of the garment. Her hair was twisted into an intricate style the held in place a lacy veil that trailed down her back – creating the illusion of a halo. Bert was certain that he'd never seen anything more beautiful; the way the last of the October sun and warmth burst through the church windows and latched onto his soon-to-be wife like a protective embrace, the way she smiled nervously at him as she got closer and closer and the way she finally looked up at him with all the love in the world as they finally stood face-to-face…it was a look that he returned and a look that he would continue to give her as long as they were together.

"'ello, Mary"

"Hello, Bert" they both whispered as they blushed ferociously.

Mary brought a thumb to Bert's cheek and gently brushed away the few tears that had apparently fallen – trying to make sure her own didn't fall as she did so.

"You look so beautiful" he breathed.

"You don't look too bad yourself" she smirked.

Neither of them could quite believe that they were here, in all their years of friendship they never thought that something like this would ever happen; even before the war they had both had moments where they wondered what it would be like to hold the other in their arms, to wake up next to each other and to have a life together…but if someone had told them that one day it would all become a reality, they never would've believed it.

They had had feelings for each other for years, but they had always been too scared to ever admit it, Mary was fearful of how it would affect her duties and was rather intimidated by the concept of love itself; and Bert, he was scared of rejection, scared of having to face the fact that Mary Poppins would never love him back. But as the ceremony progressed, as he eventually slipped the wedding ring onto her finger and as she slipped one onto his, those fears no longer existed. There was no fear of love or rejection and no war driving a wedge between them, instead it was just the two of them ready to embark on an entirely new adventure.

Everything seemed truly dreamlike but their complete attention was brought back to the ceremony when they eventually heard some of the sweetest words ever spoken…

"I now pronounce you man and wife…you may now kiss the bride"

They both blushed slightly as Bert brought a soft hand to the small of her back and gifted her a sweet kiss that contained all the love in the world. They could hear their friends and family cheering, clapping and some even weeping, but all they could focus on was the overpowering rush of euphoria that went powering through every inch of their bodies as they could finally call themselves Mr and Mrs Alfred.

 ***!***

"Oh, honestly!" Mary giggled as Bert swept her off her feet before she had a chance to walk into his flat; he held her tightly against him…bridal style.

"Now, now, Mrs _Alfred_ , I am merely startin' off our married life in the traditional fashion" he said cheekily.

Mary sighed and gave him one of her looks, but she couldn't stop her lips from curling into a playful smile; then, in one large step, Bert carried his wife across the threshold – never breaking their enthralling eye contact as he did so.

"You are light-headed!" Mary teased as he carried her into the flat.

Whilst still holding her, Bert responded to her teasing by capturing her lips in a fiery kiss. They're lips moved together fluidly and their chests began to flutter. Mary slid her hand up to his hair and raked her hand through his soft locks; the motion brought his face closer to hers – deepening the kiss. When they finally broke apart, they were almost breathless. Bert gently lowered Mary to her feet, snaked his arms around her waist and rested his forehead against hers.

"Now, y' can call me light-'eaded all you like, but you know that I've never been one to break tradition!" he chuckled – his breath hot against her cheeks.

Mary gave him a slightly devilish smile.

"Well, neither am I"

"Oh, well, what traditions are left?" he asked coyly – whilst also feigning naivety.

Mary let a slight laugh slip from her lips as she began to eye him promiscuously – a look that he eventually returned. She took his hand and lead him towards the bed.

"I'll show you"

 **0ooooooooooooooo0**

 **19** **th** **June, 1920:**

Even after almost a year of marriage they still couldn't quite believe just how much their lives had changed; life was so blissful and in many ways, they still felt like newlyweds. They lay in each other's arms that morning – sated from their lovemaking – and drank in the wonder of the life that they shared. Bert pressed a kiss to Mary's forehead and in response she snuggled further into his embrace; humming pleasantly as she savoured the warmth of his body against hers.

They couldn't believe how lucky they were. The woman that Bert had fallen for all those years ago now lay in his arms and now called herself his wife. As for Mary, well, she just couldn't believe that she was lucky enough to spend her life with the man that had been her best friend; the kindest, sweetest and most endearing man she'd ever met. The man that had fallen for her and she had fallen for him too. She was proud to call herself Mrs Alfred and even after having that title for eight months, it still made her heart flutter with such excitement whenever she thought about it. She was Bert's wife, she was the one that he loved…she wondered what she did to be so lucky. She had adored him for so long, but was always so scared of pursuing anything more than friendship for fear of hurting him – she would never do anything to hurt him.

Of course, Bert felt exactly the same way about her. He had always treasured their friendship and always felt so privileged that Mary chose to spend so much of her time with him, that she gave him a chance and saw him as more than the poor jack of all trades that spent most of his time on his knees or covered in soot. He'd always had feelings for her, but he never thought that she would ever have any kind of romantic interest in him and whilst that hurt, he was still so overwhelmed by the friendship she gave him – and that was always just enough. But things had changed and Bert was certain that he was the luckiest man who ever lived, for he could say that Mary Poppins…Mary Alfred – the woman that he'd loved for so long – loved him back. He could say that he was married to the most amazing woman in the world…he got to see her wake up, he got to see all sides of her…he saw her in a way that no one else got to.

They smiled at each other endlessly and Mary eventually pressed her lips softly against Bert's – they were still smiling as they broke apart. Bert sighed peacefully – still revelling in his euphoria.

"What are you smiling at?" Mary giggled.

"You" Bert replied with a warm smile.

"How very flattering" she giggled again.

"I'm just thinkin' about 'ow lucky I am"

"Lucky?"

"Yeah…I've got the most beautiful and wonderful wife in the 'ole world…I know I've said it before, but in all my years on knowin' an' lovin' you, I never thought I'd be lucky enough to call you my wife"

"You're way too sentimental, dear…" she teased, but then sighed, "…Bert, I do appreciate the compliments you give me, but you needn't wonder how you got so lucky, as _I_ have said before, you make it sound like you think you're not good enough…you're an absolute diamond, Bert and if anyone should revel in their luck, it should be me."

"'ow about we agree to make it a team effort?" he joked.

"Sounds good to me!" she chuckled – her laugh like a melody.

Bert tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear before moving his hand to caress her cheek. Everything felt so tranquil. She brought a hand to his chest and traced her fingers down one of the scars that lay there – she would be forever thankful that he had survived, that he was still with her.

"I love you, Bert" she whispered.

"I love you too"

They kissed again and as their lips met they felt isolated from everything else in the world – feeling nothing but the love they had for the other. They had overcome so much throughout their years of friendship and romance, the endless goodbyes and periods of separation that they feared would one day drive a wedge between them – but they soon realised that their friendship was unbreakable; then, of course, there was the war – the torturous period that drove them to their limits – testing their friendship, their strength and their love. They had both lived in fear for so long, but it was all behind them now. The war had been over for years, Bert's nightmares were practically non-existent and they had healed their hearts. They had come together and formed a life.

Together they had overcome so much, so as they lay in each other's arms – their lips pressed lovingly together – they knew that they would be able to overcome so much more, and so, with no more worries in their minds, they continued down the path of their new and wonderful life together.

 ****!****

 **A/N: So, there it is! It's all over! I really, really hope you enjoyed that!**

 **Once again thank you for reading and thank you for all the support!**

 **I do have more Mary Poppins stories in the works, but I'm going to be starting university really soon so I'm not sure if and when they'll get written and published - but hopefully it'll be soon because I really enjoy writing these (I've spent my entire summer writing! No joke, I've been writing practically every day since the beginning of June!) and it makes me so happy when you gusy say that you enjoy reading them too!**

 **So, thanks once again and I'd really appreciate it if you left a review so that I can hear your thoughts!**

 **See you soon! xxx**


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